awaken, my love | lost boys vs the darlings

[gamemaker kelsier]

You're dislocated,
don't be like that

I feel Volkners hands on my skin still.

A phantom pain, leaking through this tired brain, claiming the rising and falling of my chest. I shut my eyes in the darkness and his face lives behind my eyelids, a spear through his skin. I would die too just to not feel this guilt anymore. Volkner was supposed to be the strongest of us.

Now I just feel afraid.

I hold Bella's hand in my left and Akira's in my right as we walk. We do it in silence, straining to hear any sound. A repeat of this morning with Volkner's death is a terrifying thought.

My hands are stained red with Volkner's blood. I don't know how else to carry him with me. On my back is a brand new axe from the kid that Akira killed.

I don't think Akira's gonna be ok about it but I'm not one to talk. I can't sleep without the sensation and sound of my spear going through that girl's skin running through my head over and over first, like counting sheep. I tighten my hand around akira's squeezing to let him know I'm here. My comfort is wordless but there's nothing to say still. Volkner's death suddenly woke me up, reminding me that anyone can die here.

Even the strongest.

Eventually we come to a little hollow. Beds are scattered throughout and it seems surreal that something so comfortable could be in a hellish place such as this. Yet they're there. I let go of Bella's hand and push down gingerly on the covers. Almost afraid that spikes will come out and pierce my hand. It seems too good to be true. Nothing happens and I lie down gingerly on the bed, eyes shut in bliss almost immedietly.

I don't think I've ever laid down in a bed so comfy.

I tug Bella down by the hand and pull on Akira gently too. "Lie down. Rest," I whisper, somehow calm for the moment despite everything.

I feel like the calm before the storm but my heart waits like a ship facing down a threatening cloud. I don't think I have the capacity to face an ocean storm.

The anthem starts and I push my face into Akira's shoulder so I don't have to see Volkner smirking down at us. My arms snake around his waist too, pulling him close, afriad for the rains and the winds to start, afraid he's going to fly away in the storm.

I think of Violet.

I know I'm not getting home to him, I don't have it in me. I'd much rather die.

If Akira or Bella could kill me, that'd be ideal.

Or maybe an opportunity will arise and I can just kill myself before things get too real.

Then I dream about Violet.

I know it's a dream because the sand underneath me doesn't feel real and I can see crashing waves but I can't hear them. Violet has my head in his hand, cradling it away from the sand and his body covers me, it's warm. I can feel his skin on mine, his lips on my neck. He looks at me and his mouth moves but I can't hear him.

The silence is deafening.

His mouth starts moving faster and his brows furrow the way they do when he's confused. His grip tightens and I hear a sigh but it isn't his. "Violet," I say, "I can't hear you, it's too loud."

Then he just stops.

He stares at me until I wake up.

It's still too early, I can tell by the quality of the light. Akira and Bella sleep still to either side of me but I'm too warm, trapped between their heat. I get up and crawl off the end of the bed, the need to pee making me ache.

I move off to somewhere secluded to relieve myself, struggling with the damn onesie for a brief moment and finally getting myself loose.

"Violet," I say, zipping myself back up, "I had a dream about you."

I don't know if they'd even film this, considering what I was just doing, but I have to hope.

"Yes," I continue, "I love you. You're the one I love."

I know it's true too, really. I know it will never change and I know how fucking stubbonr he is.

"If I die today, please find someone new to fuck but don't love them as much as me or I'm going to fucking haunt you, asshole."

Just in case people were worried I was cute.

I heft my spear and sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for the others to wake up and keeping watch. I'm not going to let what happened to Volkner happen to either of them today.

So when, I hear a rustling in the bushes, I don't take any chances, I lift my spear and I plunge it down as hard as I can.

[andy attacks Florence Spark with spear]
gZaMkhE0spear
[3127 -- Shallow Cut on Right Forearm -- 3.5 damage]

And you smile when you dive in,
like you're never coming back

song: fear of water

spear

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

There was nothing.

Nothing there in the space that they occupied.

Three titans floating around the void of Jupiter, hanging on by a thread.

And reality was collapsing around them.

---

Neela Chiffon was a beautiful disaster.

And that was what Stitch was going to miss about her the most.

She held the group together in a weird way, her resourcefulness proving invaluable time and time again.

She proved herself to them, but she did not make it.

No.

She was hunted down by the boy from seven.

And Stitch stood by idly, watching his spear poke a massive spot into the Neela.

Her black hole capsizing in front of him.

But in that capsizing, was a beauty that Stitch had never seen before.

As much as he wanted to exact his revenge, it was not his place.

Because as much as a black holes gravity was inescapable, Stitch Gabel was not a tyrant.

---

”You’re such a sissy…” Lavina sneered at him as he walked towards the raft that was parked at the edge of the lagoon.

”Shut up. For once Lavina, think about how many times weve taken care of you.” Stitch said to her. Knowing well that he had stitched up most of her wounds with his two hands.

A feeling that he would never forget, even in death. ”If we take care of you, then why shouldn’t we take care of others?”

Stitch shook his head, motioning his hands to get onto the raft. ”Lavina, we care about you, as much as we don’t show it. We still have your back. We’re not your enemy here.” Words echoed from here to space, and for once, he felt like he was at some sort of peace with himself.

This was something that he needed to say.

Not because Lavina had set him off, ”Neela died. The girl from seven died. That’s enough bloodshed for an eternity…” Stitch pulled the rope off the big rock hopped on the raft after, feeling the buoyancy of the water against the soles of his shoes.

He felt like he was floating across the solar system again, and everything just felt like it was right.

Minus everything not being fine.

Nothing but Mercury in Retrograde.

”And yet we might have to kill again tomorrow.” Stitch finished his sentence and with one of the javelins from Lavina’s back, he pushed them off the ledge, sailing off to anywhere that wasn’t here.

---

And then they hit land, and for once, Stitch felt like he could actually breath here.

Like he had found a place like earth, where the oxygen was rich, and the planet was beautiful.

But none of that would matter because Neela Chiffon or Gabriel Laws were not here.

They were dead.

Buried in whatever coffin they put the fallen into and soon to be forgotten about.

He wondered what they could have been doing if they were still alive.

He wondered if Gabriel would be thinking about him the same way that Stitch did.

If Neela would still ease Stitch’s loneliness.

Because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he missed home.

He was sure that they all did.

But Neela was not here anymore. She couldn’t remind him of things that once were because she didn’t have a voice to speak. A song to sing or a thought to be heard.

There was nothing but silence from her, even in his mind.

And Stitch hated it.

But his alliance members didn’t need to know that.

---

Instead, he watched over the fire as Florence and Lavina huddled up for warmth.

It was weird, not having an extra person with them, and Stitch wasn’t sure if they were ever going to get used to that feeling.

But Lavina had made it very clear to Stitch after Neela, no more.

And he agreed.

Not because there wasn’t strength in numbers, but because Stitch knew that he could not handle losing another person that he was just getting close too.

That pain would live with all them for a long while, even into their deaths, and Stitch wasn’t sure if he could cope with that.

Because if he hadn’t encourage Neela to join them, she might still be alive today.

Playing with Florence.

Talking with Stitch.

Working with Lavina.

But that was something that Stitch needed to leave behind now.

As he laid back into the sand near the fire.

Watching the embers lead up into the night sky.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and just wished it would all go away.

---

But it never would, as he heard the sound of the anthem rattle through the universe.

His eyes opened but he did not move.

He just watched as the faces passed in the sky.

His eyes scanned to the left, seeing Lavina look up at the sky as Volkner’s image had popped up.

She sneered at the sky, raising her middle finger at him, hoping that was just false news.

That he was actually alive, just so she could kill him herself.

And then his face disappeared and moved to Cesare, a face that he hadn’t seen since the training center.

Stitch always wished that he got a chance for a last goodbye, but that would never happen.

Not here.

Not ever.

And his face disappeared and Neela’s followed right after.

He could hear Florence whimpering as her face was burned into Stitch’s retina, like looking into a solar eclipse for a moment too long.

It was something that he was never going to forget.

And then the girl from seven appeared and Stitch couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had decided to kill the girl from two as well.

If he took his scarf and held it over her mouth instead of the wound that she clung too.

The picture flashed away, and Stitch simply closed his eyes again.

As much as Stitch didn’t want to admit it, killing someone was harder than it seemed.

Not when they didn’t wrong him.

Not when they weren’t being pulled into his gravity.

---

And the sunlight felt magical on his skin as he realized that it was already morning.

That meant that it was time for them to move.

Their orbit had halted for a moment, and Stitch could feel the ice age forming on his soul, but that did not mean it was all over for them.

No.

They had to keep on going, because that is what Neela would have wanted.

As much as he was going to miss her, he had a feeling that Neela knew she wasn’t going to make it home.

And so it was his chance to carry the mantel for eight.

He would not let her death sadden him.

But empower him.

And so with a rusty start, his legs moved before his mind could think.

”It’s a new day guys. Lets move.” Stitch said, hoping that Lavina and Florence were right behind him.

---

and as they got into the forest of this hollow, Stitch could feel the immensity of the world on his shoulders.

Like something bad was about to happen, and he did not know what it was.

Because no matter how much he looked at the stars, they did not have the answers that he needed.

They did not offer platitudes or advice on affairs that did not have anything to do with them.

They begged to not be heeded, because their words were full of fallacies that led people to their demise.

But that did not stop Stitch from still treading through, pulling his glaive to the forefront.

He needed to be ready for anything.

---

And all he heard was bedroom hymns from the forest before him.

Stitch was cautious as he walked forward, knowing well that this would surely lead to a fight that he wanted to avoid.

But the fates and the stars had a different plan for the darlings.

But before Stitch could even react, he watched as a spear launched through the bushes, nicking Florence in the arm.

”Back off Romeo, she’s fourteen.” Stitch says, replaying the remnants of his conversation to himself in his head.

But he is not his target anyway.

He pushed past the boy from four and set his eyes on the one from three.

And his glaive fell before he could even speak.

Stitch Gabel attacks Akira Sokatoa with his glaive
qB8wQTBlglaive
[13117 -- Deep Gash on Left Thigh -- 8.0 damage + 1 for rivalry = 9 damage]

glaive

[pup]

He tries to give me some emotional shit talk about how we take care of each other and that there's been enough death for the day. I don't listen. I don't need Stitch dictating dumb emo speeches, so I just tune him out. He just doesn't understand the feeling of power you get as you watch someone die. Maybe that's better for me. It will be easier to kill him if he doesn't want to fight back.

Then we move on. The girl from seven would be dead soon enough anyways.

Night rolls in as we enter a forest, nearing a large tree. The light glimmers gold, distracting me for a moment as I search for any sign of danger.

---

The music starts, the anthem plays. Volkner's face appears in the sky. Anger boils in me.

I flip him off, and I yell, not caring if anyone hears us. If someone hears my shout, let them come. I'll just take their head and they won't be able to listen to my curses anymore.

"Fuck you!"

I don't know who I'm yelling at. At his ghost? At the capitol? At the gamemakers for letting this happen?

I just know that it was supposed to be me who gutted him. He let himself go get killed. I hate him even more. Maybe outside of here, we would have been friends, but on the inside it was my job to see him dead.

Florence whimpers behind me, "Don't do that, he was a good person."

I force a grin at the small girl, "Don't worry, Flor. I'm just mad at him for dying."

And I'm not lying. I just don't include the full truth.

---

We lay down to rest underneath the tall tree, Florence snuggles up close to me, and I let her. My initial thought would be to push her away, but inside a soft voice yells at me to just leave it be. Maybe a remnant of my pure soul remains in the impurity left by Damon. He corrupted me, but maybe a small piece of good in me whispers to me to just protect the small girl besides me.

No.

I can't let myself feel affection for her.

She'll be dead too soon enough.

---

The dawn slowly rises.

People approach.

Florence whispers in my ear.

"He killed Ping, right?"

Yea, he did, and while I didn't care much for the soft-spoken girl who Andy mauled on day one, it still angers me that Andy got the fame before me.

Then he struck out at Florence besides me.

"Aww, Andy. Why'd you have to go and do that? Ya know I wanted you to live a little longer, coming from four and all, but I can't let you make this little girl sad." I give him a small pouty face for a moment, readying my sword.

Stitch already is fighting an unseen enemy somewhere beyond the bushes.

Just before I swing down with the sword, my face turns into a grin.

Sorry Andy, I'm the only one who gets to make it back home.

[Attacks Anduril Harvard w/ sword]
v7DsylYXsword
[1183 -- Severed Right Calf at Knee -- 9.0 damage
(Sword) + blades = 10]

sword

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Florence was still awake when the faces appeared. She knew it would be a torture to look at Neela, the girl from seven - and who knows who else might have said goodbye to life with those two cannons they had heard. But she needed to look at them one last time, take in every bit of their faces to store them in her heart.

But nothing had prepared her for the picture she was least expecting to see.

Volkner.

It couldn't be true. He was too strong, too confident to just... go. Lavina's "F..."
... very rude words jabbed her ears. She said she was mad at him for dying. Was she in love with him? That wasn't surprising. Behind all that scary career image there was a good person that was worth loving. Volkner and Lavina would make a cute couple if getting out of the arena together was an option.

After Volkner, Neela, boy from two and the girl from seven faded in the skies, the rest of the night became a blur. But when she woke up by Lavina's side, she shook off the sadness. Many of her friends were still alive and Stitch and Lavina needed her.

__________________________________________

The memory of Volkner's face above her head was still lingering in Florence's mind when a weapon cut through her skin. She looked at the people that appeared in front of them all of a sudden with disbelief. A meeting with his alliance felt like seeing his ghost.

They are Volkner's friends, right?

But if Lavina didn't want Volkner to die, these words would hurt her. So Florence only murmured one of the thoughts that were racing around her head:

"He killed Ping, right?"

This was the boy who had done it, that's what she had been told on the day when Ping's glimmering portrait swam in the stars. She couldn't be mad at him, because just like with Volkner, there must have been a human behind the "He killed Ping" facade. She just needed to know...

Lavina rushed to protect her from the attacker. And with a terrifying sound, her weapon sank into the boy's leg.

"No!"

That was too much - nobody deserved that kind of pain. But it was clear that if she didn't step between him and Lavina, he would strike at her friend. Florence couldn't allow this to happen.

Jumping in front of him, she looked in his eyes. What was behind that face? What mysteries did his heart hide?

"I just need to know why."

A hint of pain shone in her thoughtful gaze when she raised her weapon at him, trying to make him step back from Lavina.

"And I'm asking you to step back from my friends and go. This doesn't have to end in death."

Wynter was a good teacher. But Florence didn't want to throw a punch. It had never been her desire to see someone in pain.

Please don't make me show what I've really got.

Florence Spark attacks andúril harvard with spear

4BRXdQh|spear

3119 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage
(Spear)

Accuracy

spear

3010 -- Block -- 0.0 damage
(Spear)spear�spear

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

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

Love is a curious thing. Tumbling out of Anduril's lips from time to time, staining the sky with my despair as Volkner lights up the synthetic stars. The shock has had time to fade, replacing itself with lips made of stone as I sew myself together. Kill or be killed? What happens when we have managed both. Children battled with blades locked against their own mortality and there I sat, staring at the wall. Wishing that they would get it over with. That I would fall by the Capitol's hand alone.

Cowards. Without the guts to slay me themselves. Monsters hidden behind glass panels and I know they laugh at my ignorance. Convinced that I was safe within the arms of my companion and even know- with fingers laced in Andy's - I'm not foolish enough to believe the same. Craft me from hellfire or smother my flames, this waiting game has turned tiring. I cannot protect them forever. I couldn't even protect myself.

It hurts worse in the morning. Dull aches becoming duller and I can feel my wounds leaking onto tattered cloth. It's hard to get blood out of your clothes. Turns dark and damp against my skin and all of this is so disgustingly messy. No closed eyes, no stopping hearts. Calm ends brought forth by bitter berries and I've so desperately wanted to find anything of the sort within this arena.

But they're not that stupid, are they?

Stupid girl. My grandmother's voice has been growing louder. Loud as a clocks ticking and I wake with panic beneath my tongue. Hands wrapped around my own throat so as to keep her away from it and I know i've not a chance if takes me completely. Stupid girl! She's there. I'm dying.

"Andy help-" They come. Like moths to a flame and his blade glances off their skin.

I've no choice but to strike with her screaming in my ears.

[attacks lavina cheyne -- sword]
_lK7Vr38sword
[result]

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

song: 27 hours

sword

[lance]

Count my cards watch them fall
Blood on a marble wall
I like the way they all
Scream

You'd known it would have to happen eventually. To this day, not a single person had escaped the arena with their lives without at least one or two other souls adding invisible tons to their shoulders, forever breaking an otherwise innocent figure into a creature of their own visage.

But no amount of preparation could prepare you for the actual act itself. Your blade flashed, free of any restraint, and metal sunk into exposed flesh and bone with scant resistance. And the great titan of Two, the boy who had shrugged off losing an ear and taking a spear to the gut, finally fell to a direct hit from behind.

Your direct hit from behind.

Like a puppet with his strings cut, the boy fell almost as if in slow motion. Just as David had slain Goliath, so you too had felled a competitor more fearsome than you could ever hope to become.

Though he was the one to fall, you are not certain that it is not your own life that had just ended, for everything was going numb, blank shock hitting your body as the full weight of what you had done sinks in. And for the third time that day, you're glad that your stomach is befit of contents other than acid and mucus, for as you retch, there's still some dim part of your mind that sounds eerily like your grandmother scolding you as a reminder not to embarrass yourself on national television.

You come to on your hands and knees, polearm still gripped between knuckles that had gone white with exertion. Rationality kicks in half a second later, and you scramble back to a position more apt for defending yourself with, but there's no need. The boy has fled, the little girl is sobbing over the corpse of the boy you just killed - a sight and sound that you quickly block out to the best of your ability - and the lone girl is standing in front of you, offering not combat but a question-

"Can you tell me your name?"

-and it doesn't register at first, adrenaline fighting to block out any sense of rational thought as your brain struggles to maintain control of your body. You want to collapse, cry, puke, run, you're not quite sure as impulses battle for dominance in the aftermath of your greatest triumph and your most potent sin.

"Please."

You'd spent weeks building your walls, doing what you could not to get attached, and under normal circumstances you'd shrug her off with a glance that spoke more than words ever could. It was one of your trademarks - the look that screamed "seriously?" - that you flung towards Yukimura more times than you bothered to count.

These were not normal circumstances.

"Akira." Never before had your own name carried so much weight. Akira, the name of a boy from Three, sixteen years of age, tribute for the Seventy Ninth Annual Hunger Games, and now, known murderer of one.

"Thank you." You're not sure what there is to be thankful for, yet instinct declares that you nod in acknowledgement all the same.

She turns, walking away, and you're secretly grateful that there seems to be a mutual agreement that between the loss of the boy from One and the boy from Two that enough blood has been shed in these woods today.

You make to turn too, but a single syllable makes you pause. "Oh," says the girl. "I'm Dove."

Dove. A pretty name for the girl that instigated the death of two boys that would be your stiffest competition in the endgame. You're not sure whether to thank her or curse her out for such an action, so you make the easy choice.

You run.

---

You phase in and out of focus over the next few hours. You're vaguely aware of one hand clasped in Andy's firm grip while the other still maintains its grip on your polearm, ever vigilant against threats from the woods. The fall of the boy from Two plays on repeat in your mind, and your blade is stained with his blood, the rusty crimson contrasting sharply with the brilliant green jade of the hilt.

You're almost glad when efforts to find food end in failure, only for that's one less meal you think you'll throw back up when the time comes. Bodily needs overrule nausea when it comes to water, however, and you're grateful that you took the time to take the boy's bag from his body before you left, however morbid that might sound. For while you might not be able to stomach food, you're able to handle water in little sips and gulps, until before you know it the jug is empty and you're somewhat refreshed.

Concentration comes and goes. Sometimes you're aware of every little detail of the path you and your companions are forging from the greatest oak to the smallest spider; others you're aware only of Andy's grip on your hand, warm and steady amongst a tidal wave of despair.

You killed a boy. Win or lose, live or die, you will forever have that stain upon your soul from this day until your last day, and right now, it is too much to take in.

One moment you're walking, the next you're being tugged to the ground, Andy's voice a breath of reason. "Lie down. Rest."

It sounds like a good idea, so you oblige.

Flat on your back, bare back against something soft and bare chest exposed to the world, you nevertheless have a clear view of the stars between fading treetops.

Rationality returns when the familiar tune sounds, and you've acutely aware of Andy tightening his grip around you, face buried in the crook of your shoulder. You understand, so you let him.

Volkner's face shines, arrogant even in death. The boy you killed shines next, the name of Cesare Crocetti glaring against the night sky for all to see. Then comes the girl from Seven and the girl from Eight, before all goes dark once again.

I'm one quarter of the way to home, comes your final, exhausted thought. Then, all goes to dark.

---

When you awake, you're immediately aware of three things. One, while the temperature has barely lessened since the previous day, the sky is anything but clear, rain clouds gathering above. In a few minutes, everything will be wet. Two, your sleep was surprisingly dreamless, exhaustion clearly overriding trauma when it came to what sort of sleep you were going to receive.

Three, Andy is no longer clinging to your side as if his life depends on it. In fact, the bed is empty save for you, Andy nowhere to be seen and Bella already charging at-

Realization hits you faster than a train, and it is instinct that whips out your glaive and follows her into battle before conscious thought can kick in.

Conflict started early this morning, yet before you can take in the opposition a blade digs itself into your exposed thigh, prompting a cry of pain in response.

You stumble back, leg burning, and get your first true look at the opposition. The boy standing across from you is from Eight, you remember that much, but anything beyond that is an enigma.

Further on, you see Andy engaged in combat with two girls. One, you realize with a start, is his own district partner. And the other-

Oh no.

You'd never talked to Florence Spark personally, deeming the girl even younger than you more of a liability than a potential asset and avoiding her on the train and in the Capitol alike. When you'd entered the arena, it had been with the hope that you'd avoid your district partner until she had met her inevitable demise at the hands of some other tribute in the arena. And while killing one's own district partner wasn't uncommon - Aeson Kight had done it last year, Three's own Atticus Manor had struck down Danny Brooker to claim his crown, and the girl from Four and Andy seemed intent on continuing that particular bloody tradition even now - you had no desire to join that group. Florence had seemed like a genuinely decent girl, if a bit naive, and if killing her was the right of passage that you had to undertake to claim your crown, that was one task you were going to put off as long as possible.

Andy seemed to have taken it upon himself to take care of her in your place, and you're not quite sure if you should thank him or curse him out for it.

But she is not your problem, the boy with a weapon not unlike yours is. You adjust, holding your polearm in front of you in what you hope is something close to defensive, muscles tensing for the inevitable strike on his form.

And then Bella strikes, and an arm flies through the air.

And you know what you must do.

You recognize what the boy is trying to do - separate you from the pack so that he can deal with you personally. Whether that's because he sees you as the weak link or it's a simple matter of strategy, you're not sure, but it's a game you recognize. Separate the group into one versus one, divide and then conquer. Most would flee at one death, and by putting your strongest against their weakest, you liken the chances of your side coming out on top.

You're not offended because it's true, but you're not going to fall for his game. Fairness and survival do not often go hand in hand, and you're not going to let your pride bring you to your death. Not today.

So you feint, aiming a swing towards the boy's face - because the face is always what makes them flinch - and instead of following through, you weave around him.

Most would flee at one death, that much is true. Take out the Career in the mix, and the lesser trained will flee.

You'd already done it once before, after all.

When your blade flashes towards the girl, there's no trace of Cesare Crocetti in your mind. Only grim, resolved determination.

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

song: you should see me in a crown - billie eilish

akira attacks lavina; glaive

tyiPaYMjglaive

13032 -- Deep Gash on Chest -- 9.5 damage

glaive

[gamemaker kelsier]

You're dislocated,
don't be like that

"Fuck," I say, falling to a knee.

"Should have known you were the type of bitch to attack their own district partner Lavina."

For some reason I smile.

My leg's cut so deep I feel like maybe it just might fall off. Maybe it will. That'd be good. Then I could bleed out and just die. Then I could stop having to think.

I want to know it's always me, why I can't get one lucky break. I must have been a real shithole in my first life. I reach down, feeling the blood on my leg. It feels like it really did almost go right through. Am I gonna die here?

I stare up at the sun. It doesn't offer much, not even a whisper.

"I was scared when I heard the sound in the bushes," I say, gazing at Lavina, "I thought you were attacking us."

I don't know why I'm bothering to explain myself to her. She's probably not even listening. Bullies never do.

I've dealt with them my whole life, since I was little, before I even thought of wearing makeup. I was six the first time I got suckerpunched. That's what you get for growing up in a career district. My dad actually got mad at me for it. He didn't want his kid to be a loser. Too bad he got stuck with me.

Good thing my dad is the biggest bully I know. After him I don't think anyone could scare me.

I got shoved in a locker a few times in school. The first time, I was terrified. There wasn't enough air and it was too hot. Everyone had already gone home for the day. I wasn't afraid of tight spaces though. I don't even know if I was afraid of dying.

I was scared because I knew that no one was looking for me.

The janitor let me out eventually and I ended up just keeping a book in my locker and an empty water bottle for emergencies.

I really don't want to get killed by a bully.

I know it's hypocritical, you might say, if you still conformed to gender roles. I wouldn't if I were you, I never have. I've been painting my nails since I was eleven. Using the sorry excuse of a guy not hitting a girl in a death game was just useless.

Still I wish I could be cold right now, that I could feel nothing. I wish I could be numb like I could be when I was drunk or when I was high.

"Why are you always godamned high?"

Because then I don't have to feel you not loving me.

[andy attacks Florence Spark with spear]
41TCVukKspear
[Stabbed in Calf -- 8.5 damage + 1 strength]

And you smile when you dive in,
like you're never coming back

song: fear of water

spear

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

Gravitational storms never seemed to stop when he was in the arena.

Every single dust particle stirred into the milky way, a sight that no human should ever go without seeing, crossed the path that Stitch was looking at.

And for once he felt like he was falling out of space.

A free fall that would end in a crystalline cataclysm for everyone to see.

Because when he would smack into the earth’s gravity, he would become the gravitational storm that would knock the earth onto a new track.

And possibly send it barreling to the sun.

---

But right now, he felt the warmth of the sun as it beat down on his supple skin.

Cascading off his forehead, a glaive now covered in blood.

And he simply pulled it out of the boy that was his target.

He didn’t know the boy from three that much, except for the fact that Florence thought he was very silent.

Florence though saw the best in everyone, even if they were trying to murder her.

But Stitch did not.

Stitch took notes while he walked around the training center, and two people that he kept his eyes on was the girl from seven and the boy that he was attacking right now.

Why?

Because the silent ones always proved to be the most dangerous ones.

---

And then he watched an arm go flying in the air and Lavina already started looking bad.

In that moment, he wanted to look back and scold her, but right now, that was not his objective.

It was to survive the day, and protect the people that meant the most to him.

He could feel the pressure exuding him his hands, and they tightened around the glaive, as he watched the boy from three hold his gaze for longer than a minute.

But then he watched as he swung his glaive.

Stitch ducked instintictively, but then he was off, to help aid the girl from one in her efforts to kill yet another career.

---

A cannon sounded in the distance, and Stitch couldn’t help but hope that it wasn’t the girl that he had helped yesterday.

The last thing that he wanted to see was her face in the sky later that night.

But that was one of the many tragedies of the games.

People that you cared about died, and people that you didn’t want to die did.

Gabriel, Neela, Volkner.

People that revolved around his gravity.

People that fell like shooting stars around him.

Cascading with gold and white hues that Stitch had never seen before.

And that he would never see again.

Because they disappeared along with the anthem in the night sky.

Their bodies left to rot in the arena as they moved on day to day.

Trying to make sense of the depravity that they all faced here.

In all its nightmarish glory.

---

And so Stitch followed in suit, knowing well that the only way this fighting was going to end was if he killed someone first.

And while the boy from three was quick on the offensive, Stitch was hot on his trail, following suit.

”Attacking the girl who just got her arm chopped off? Typical.” Stitch said, looking at Lavina with a concern in his eyes that usually wasn’t there.

For the first time in a long time, he was worried about what was going to happen to her.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he cared for her, but of course, he would never say it out loud.

Because Stitch Gabel was still allowed to keep his own secrets.

”Lavina, hang in there.” Stitch said, knowing the emptiness behind the words meant nothing.

And so with red filling his eyes, and his gravity intensifying, Stitch Gabel was ready to embrace the black hole that he knew himself to be.

And he took his glaive and brought it down on the boy from three again.

Stitch Gabel attacks Akira Sokatoa with his Glaive
cwWvHD7Vglaive
[13160 -- Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage]

glaive

[pup]

i have to poof cause breakfast with friends today so i'm going to throw this filler here to move things along <333

gasps and grimaces in pain and all that stuff
flips akira off with remaining hand
picks up sword


Moves over, trying to get away from akira and bella

To Andy: "Nice to see you haven't gone completely crazy in here yet, then."
Tries to grin to hide the pain.

basically this: media1.giphy.com/media/Tim0q7zolF3fa/giphy.gif

[Attacks Anduril Harvard w/ sword]
aGdtUcgLsword
[Check
1121 -- Deep Gash on Back -- 8.5 damage
(Sword) + blades = 9.5]

sword

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

She could barely remember who was hitting whom in the madness that this fight became. Like a carousel, everything was spinning around the child, iron cutting, blood splashing. A blade cut into her calf and she winced in pain. But she didn't have the time to look down. She had to help Stitch and Lavina before it was too late. Pain was pulsing in her leg, but with gritted teeth she ignored it.

Breathe in - breathe out. It doesn't exist.

All that suffering was only temporary. But Lavina's wouldn't be if she didn't get through this fight in one piece... Two pieces. Florence shut her eyes for a second when someone's weapon cut through her friend's flesh - she could feel her friend's pain like her own.

The boy from four was still in front of her, his allies surrounding them and draining Lavina's strength; blow after blow pushed her closer to the point of no return.

He took Ping. They took Ping.

Florence had lost one friend to him already - she couldn't let them take Lavina's life too.

Florence Spark attacks Andúril Harvard with spear

_238QvLCspear

3107 -- Deep Gash on Left Bicep -- 8.0 damage
(Spear)spear

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

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

They're falling to pieces around me. As though the world is moving in slow motion and my fingers are clasped around a hilt slick with sweat and blood. Not like this, it can't be like this. It falls with a thump eyes trained upon the pulsating limb useless upon the floor. Curious. The way that I expect vomit to curdle in the pit of my stomach. Curious. The way that it never comes. Bleeding boys bright crimson and I want to run. Grab the fabric of their shirts between numb fingers and leave these victors with their spoils.

They're hurting. Old wounds leaking out upon my cheeks and blood tastes like salt between my teeth. Bones shattering beneath my tongue and I've nothing left to do but scream silently into the madness. "Anduril!" Hand upon his back with words that lurch to a halt the minute I see the wounds pressed into his skin by ugly baronesses. They can't have him. He's mine. They're mine.

Failure. Words have begun to feel sharp against my lungs. Every breath strained and shuddering as her fingers work their way through hair matted with death and destruction. She's braiding it, like she used to, gnarled knuckles turned rough and if I made a single sound I would be met with razor wire across my back.

Pain is love is pain is love and-

I want it all to stop.

Can't save them. Won't save them. Laughter bubbles through my lips and it's all I can to hide them behind my hand. They cannot see me like this- breaking apart at the seams. They can't see me turning to ashes with frayed silk wrapped around my neck and so instead I look upon our enemies with absolute indifference.

Animals for slaughter.

Yes, animals for slaughter.

I bear a butcher's blade.

"Hang in there."

[attacks lavina cheyne -- sword]
A|_PIj85sword
[Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage]

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

song: 27 hours

sword

[lance]

Count my cards watch them fall
Blood on a marble wall
I like the way they all
Scream

What you lack in raw power you make up for with accuracy - but what you possess with accuracy falls short in terms of strength. Your blade hits true, square at the one-armed girl's chest, but instead of sinking in and drawing forth her lifeblood, it chinks into something much more durable, the force of the blow causing the weapon to stick in the surface.

You grunt, and exert more pressure. An angry screeching sound is the result as metal cleaves through metal, and eventually it comes free. Chest plate ruined beyond repair, you nevertheless feel a slight twinge of disappointment when you see that not a drop of fresh blood has coated your blade as a fruit for your labor. So be it.

A cannon sounds, and you flinch. But Andy hasn't fallen before the onslaught of both his district partner and yours, Bella remains unscathed in body if not in mind, and you still draw breath to register the sound. Someone else has died, at this very moment.

You wonder who, but only for a split second. Your target ignores you like you did the boy from Eight and lashes out at Andy again. Florence follows suit a moment later. Both hits strike true, and Andy bleeds for their efforts.

Dammit, dammit, damn it all. Frustration bubbles to the surface - for what good was a Career entourage when they kept falling like flies? - but you stifle it before it explodes into a berserker rage. He's not dead - yet, comes the dark thought - and you have never been one to let your emotions control you, good or bad, when danger was hovering just below the surface.

Yet you cannot help but feel frustrated that Andy is finding himself pushed into a corner by a one armed girl and your fourteen year old district partner. You cannot help but feel annoyed when the boy from Eight attempts to keep himself relevant by landing another strike towards your leg, but compared to the last one this one merely tickles in return. And oh, how you want to smash your blade through his skull, but you must stick to the plan.

Someone needs to keep their head on their shoulders, after all.

Andy is suffering, Bella is suffering, two pillars of strength that you'd both respected and feared for all of your sixteen years crumbling before your very eyes. So you must stand strong in their place.

You are the stone that stands firm before the storm. The pride and honor of the Sokatoa name lies directly on your shoulders, even if you've casually tossed both aspects to the wind in your quest to survive, and even if you must do so again.

Against all odds, the scrawny boy from Three must stand strong while the Careers crack before your very eyes. So you will do it, to your dying breath if you must.

When your blade swings towards the one-armed girl a second time, there is a fire in your eyes that you have never seen nor felt before in your entire life.

You welcome it.

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

song: you should see me in a crown - billie eilish

akira attacks lavina; glaive

UzWv0h7nglaive

13063 -- Severed Right Leg at Hip -- 10 damage

glaive

[gamemaker kelsier]

You're dislocated,
don't be like that

I know why they're going after me. Other than the fact that I'm an easy target and we all know it.

I'm the guy that killed their teammate. Ping. So maybe I deserve this.

I wish I could say I don't, but I can't. I was going to die in sin if I took my own life anyway but now I'll really be in shit for taking someone else down with me. I'm glad I don't believe in silly things like god. What type of loving god could give a homophobe a gay son.

It occurs to me that maybe I succeeded a few weeks back when I threw myself into the ocean. Maybe this is already hell and does considering this make me religious? I grew up with parents that went to church on Sundays.

I would kill to see one ocean wave and as Lavina's blade digs into my skin I know that I'd rather kill her than ever let her kill me. Her smug stare, hat crazy look in her eye, it all gave me the creeps the first time I saw it let alone now. Blood turns my clothing a dirty maroon but at least I've still got both of my legs. Can't say the same for her.

There's no hint of panic in my chest, I'm too tired to feel it.

But I can feel myself ending here.

I know Violet is watching, I doubt he's looked away even once and if it wasn't for him, maybe I'd lay down and die in this hell without even lifting a finger to stop it. This pain, this blood is not as bad as the agony of never seeing him again. The knowledge that I chose this when I accepted my spot burns because I know hoe much it hurt him.

I stare at Lavina, still standing with one leg, still coming for me like a machine. This is what a career looks like.

"I don't think anyone can be as crazy as you, darling," I say, voice dry.

She scares the shit out of me.

[andy attacks Lavina Cheyne with spear]
y1L4XRHUspear
[Deep Gash on Left Calf -- 8.0 damage + 1 strength]

And you smile when you dive in,
like you're never coming back

song: fear of water

spear

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

There is nothing here for him anymore.

They are killing her, and he cant do anything about it.

Lavina Cheyne is going down into ashes, and there nothing he can do about it.

She is burning out, falling from space into the ozone and crackling into millions of tiny little pieces.

There is nothing more they could do for her, because now she was half the person that she originally was.

Half a planet.

Half a star.

Living in half of her existence.

And Stitch Gabel hurt.

---

But that did not mean that luck had run out for the boy from eight.

He knew well that with just a little faith he could find a way to turn the fight in their favor.

But where would he pull that luck from? That was something that he did not know.

Space was lonely enough, along with desolate and wide, there was nothing but silence when he traveled across it.

But he knew that one day he would be able to find his happiness.

It wouldn’t come until he either died here in the arena or made it out alive.

But since he did not know that answer yet, all he could do was fight.

Fight to stay alive.

Fight to protect the people that he trusted.

And fight to prove everyone that ever wronged him that he was more than a boy that was good with needle and thread.

That he could take a life if he wanted too.

That he could do anything that he put his mind too.

---

But this was different, because Stitch could tell that Lavina was losing a battle that was not fair to her.

That now she was rolling in the grass, writhing in pain.

Her leg on the side, feet away from her arm that she had lost just a moment earlier.

Even if she made it out alive, she was as good as dead anyway.

She was hacked to pieces after all, and that was a sight that Stitch could never unsee.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t piece her back together if she did manage to survive this ordeal.

But the boy from three and the girl from one proved that there was no mercy here.

No salvation for any of them.

And as much as Stitch wanted to believe that people could be good, he knew that there was no good in the people who took pleasure in fighting the weak.

And watching Lavina still coming at her district partner with the same amount of ferocity that only could be mustered by a career, Stitch knew that he could not let up on any of them.

He had people he needed to protect.

People he needed to see.

People he needed to show up.

Stitch Gabel was a boy who did not know why he was thrown into a place like this.

But he was also a boy that did not falter.

This was his chance to prove he was one with the stars, just like Caine and Raven from the games before him.

He was not a Moon, but he could feel them with him as his hands tightened on his glaive, and this time, he knew his blade would strike true.

And so he pulled it back again, looking at the boy from three, realizing that he was more of a monster than Lavina would ever be.

And he struck.

Stitch Gabel attacks Akria Sokatoa with his glaive
OOMfiejkglaive
[13045 -- Deep Gash on Stomach -- 9.0 damage + 1 for rivalry = 10]

glaive

[pup]

I gasp in pain, gritting my teeth, remembering what the trainers taught me about pain as I fell to the ground. I breath in, breath out, breath in. I steady my gaze, adrenaline coursing through my two remaining limbs as I try to roll onto my remaining leg.

I push myself up with my remaining sword.

I can worry about my missing limbs later.

I grimace for a moment as I stick my sword into the ground, balancing myself on my remaining leg.

My face is soaked with blood, my eyes wide, my mouth heavy with breaths and blood intermingling. My thoughts are scattered, a mixture of cusses and pictures of how I am going to slowly tear each of them apart as soon as I can balance myself.

My grimace turns to a grin as I stare down at my partner.

Blood drips down my face and pours out of my leg and arm.

Andy talks, as if he is anything worth me. I've only let him live this long out of respect for custom.

My face lights up, a crazed smile.

Blood everywhere. I stand missing an arm and a leg. I laugh loudly, the adrenaline masking my pain.

Blood drips into my mouth and I spit it out, my face a picture of horror.

"Trust me, hun, I know." And then I raise the sword above my head.

I can't hop over to him to try and stab him, so I let myself fall at him, bringing the sword down towards his head as I laugh harder and harder.

If I die, I die crazy.

People who aren't crazy are just too boring.

[Attacks Anduril Harvard w/ sword]
Bwfum|oEsword
[1151 -- Deep Gash on Stomach -- 9.0 damage
(Sword) + 1 for blades]

sword