And I know now, more than ever, [Eve's End].

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

And every sunrise on the horizon
is a cause for a celebration
Another story to be told
Another beauty to behold
Hold it dear

“So, fall.”

Not while my heart’s still beating.

Not while Temple and Bette are fighting by my side.

I stand resolute with the knowledge that we have each other, that they stand tall behind me.

Alive,

breathing,

vibrant.

We’re allies in this fight, and when I turn to look back at them, my heart is full of so much feeling I think it might burst. It overwhelms and overtakes me, and my face contorts into something… something in-between.

Another feeling, not a faceless one.

I look at Bette and Temple and I feel so much love.

In a moment--

In between breaths, just seconds,

I smile,

and then--

and then--

the javelin presses into my back,

the flesh cuts open,

the blood draws anew,

and--






I fall,



finally.




I awake in the dirt.

Everything is.. different. It feels like the world is moving on another axis, that something is wrong with my perception of time. I’m awake, I’m awake, clinging on to the light of day. I see my weapon in front of me, feel the harsh pressure of the ground pressing firmly into my cheek, but it’s not quite real.

How did I get to this point?

I try to take in the clouds, the flames, the faces.

I think I might be shivering.

“Everything is so cold,” I whisper into the air, staring up into the vast open sky.

I try to curl into myself to keep warm, but something happens.

Gentle hands surround me,

wrap me in a flag, a blanket, a shield from the world,

and the cloth and the warmth hold me together.

Above me, Bette and Temple settle, and I take in their lovely faces.

Nothing feels real, and everything does.

I don’t, I don’t, I don’t-- know. What’s happening, why their expressions look like that.

So sad and so pained.

I want to take their pain away. I don’t want them to feel so bad.

“Will you.. hold my hands?” I ask them,

not because I need it,

.no, no, I’ll be fine,

but because I think they do.

Bette reaches forward and moves the hair out of my eyes, and I’m thankful for it. I can see their faces better. More clear, less heavy, and the warmth of Bette’s hand pressing against my forehead feels like a blessing.

In another world somewhere, I can hear Temple say:

”It’s going to be okay,

.It’s going to be okay,”

and I wonder why she thinks it won’t be.

I don’t… understand.

“Did I-- did I fall?” I ask, squeezing as tight onto their hands as I can.

They need this strength.

Bette smiles down at me, all toothy and wide. It doesn’t seem like her usual smile, but I like the way it looks. Happy, or at least pretending to be.

“Never,” Bette says. And I nod, because somewhere in the back of my mind, it makes sense.

Except--

When I smile up at my allies, when I feel the muscles of my cheeks contract, I feel--

wrong.

In an instant, I notice the pinpricks stabbing through my cloudy consciousness. I feel the gash in my cheek, and my smile falls.

Then the pain strikes for real--

And I remember,

I remember falling--

My face pulls into something ugly, all scrunched up. I try to hide it from the world, from the cameras, from Temple and Bette, but there’s no hiding this.

I’m dying, aren’t I?

I want to hide the wounds so much.

I want to be okay. I don’t want Raxar to see this, or Mom, or Dad.

I want to be okay for them.

I need to be okay for them.

.Even when-- even when I’m not, I have to be.

I curl into the blanket, shielding my face as my eyes pinch closed and my nose goes snotty from the sudden onslaught of tears. When I try to breathe normally, the sound comes out all huffy and wrong. Unsteady.

“No,” I whisper into the flag’s colors, ”No, no, no..”

Somewhere out there, outside of hiding, I feel Bette and Temple’s hands hold tight to mine. I can’t hold on so strong because my grip has gone weak, but I let them hold on to me.

It’s going to be okay, I think. Like Temple said.

It’s going to be okay.

I try to gather my bearings and suffer through a shaky breath.

After a moment’s hesitation, I decide not to hide. Not right now. I peek my head out of the flag that envelops me, leaning my ripped cheek toward the ground.

(I’m okay, Mom and Dad. See? No injury here.)

I know they’re watching, but so are Bette and Temple.

My family’s far away now, but I have a family here too.

And Wander--

(My heart seizes in my chest, remembering)

Wander was my family too. But ve’s gone.

My face scrunches up a little more, and I press it behind the flag, shifting in the dirt like I can somehow wriggle away from the pain of loss.

”I know--” I say, pausing to keep my breathing steady. ”I know.. Wander’s gone.” I’m speaking sideways now, staring at the ground a few feet in front of me.

I can’t quite.. meet their eyes. If I look at them, I might not be able to get the words out from crying, and I don’t-- I don’t want to waste this time I have. There are so many things I want to say,

but I’m getting weaker.

I’ve always been quiet. It’s only fitting that I can’t get the words out at the end, right when I realize how important it is to say them. Just on the threshold of too late.

I press my face into the cloth,

shield my eyes so they don’t see the pain,

breath ragged and quick,

and I say: “I know I fell.

and I wish-- I wish--

we could all go back to the campfire.

I had so.. so much fun,

and I was so.. so happy.

I know I’m--”

A pause, just for breathing.

”I know I’m dying. And it’s..

It’s okay.

You don’t-- don’t have to worry.

I-- I worry. About you.

I want--

I want--”

I can’t get the words out, breath hitching in my throat.

I want them to live.

My thoughts absorb into themselves, and I get lost in images of the future I won’t have.

I look at Bette and Temple, finally pulling my head up. I take in their faces, and I hold on tight to the knowledge that I’ll never get another chance.

“I was so dumb,” I spurt. ”I was so dumb. I didn’t know--”

what it was like

to be somebody’s friend,

to tell a story around a campfire,

to laugh so loudly,

to stand tall,

.to belong with others.

With Bette and Temple. With Wander.

The pair stare down at me, concern and grief written on their faces.

“No,” I say quickly, harshly, weaker than I intend to. “Don’t.. Don’t feel bad.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

You-- you deserve to live.”




My heart’s trying so hard to keep going.

My lungs are gasping,

and every breath

every shift of my body

.hurts so much.




In the end, I realize:

.Dying is easier than living.




But I tell them, I tell them, all rushed words and hurried breaths as mine run out:

”Please don’t give up.

.Please don’t give up.

Please don’t give up.”

Over and over,

until my heart

stops

beating.

Because life passes by
in the blink of an eye
like winter, making way for spring

Acknowledgments

The title and lyrics from this post are from a song called Another Year by Beans on Toast. I heard this song a few weeks after it was released in October, and I knew it had to go along with Eve’s end somehow. I’ve listened to it a few hundred times by now, so just know that I’m biased when I say it deserves a listen. It’s not about death, really, but neither is this post.

The last time I wrote an official death post for one of my tributes was in April 2012, with Reyes. A lot of years and a lot of my tributes have gone since then. I think I never wrote an end for my other tributes because I was afraid I couldn’t do them justice — that putting mediocre words down on the page wasn’t worth my time. It had to be exactly right, or it couldn’t exist at all.

Which is wrong.

I’m all here now for mediocre words and faint-hearted attempts at Being Good. And also for not caring at all about whether or not something I write is Good, because nobody decides that but me. I did some odd things with writing Eve:

lots of weird line breaks because I couldn’t get the pacing right--

.emphasis on the words that hit close to home when I put them down on the page,

and it was odd, but it was something. And that’s actually pretty momentous for me.

So because I haven’t really done this for years, I wanted to take the time to say thank you:

To anyone who read an Eve post and told me something you liked about it- thank you so much. Like Eve, I don’t always think the things I do are noticeable, and it’s easy to feel small sometimes. To see that people read my posts and like things about them? It makes me want to keep going and keep growing, despite the self-doubt.

Thank you to Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] , for persuading me to enter the reaping. I didn’t want to put my characters into the mix because the Games can be so difficult and so painful. You told me that I would regret it, and even though I still don’t know what you meant by that, I know you were right. I would have regretted it.

Thank you to Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] and [nyte] , collectively — I know how hard it can be to run a Games, and you two have done such a marvelous job. GMing is a lot of work and a lot of stress sometimes, and I’m so thankful that you were willing to do this for us.

Thank you to shrimp , for finally out-living Day One as allies with me. We fucking lived! Kind of! And every second of it was glorious. I appreciate the plotting. I appreciate your willingness to always tell it like it is, and your amazing character plans. You’re so good at taking every opportunity in the Games to do something cool, and I commend you. I hope to one day be on your level of creativity. You’re fucking phenomenal.

Thank you to sbeeg , for always making me laugh. I’m serious- it’s your superpower. Sometimes the Games are rough, but whenever things get a little too dark, I know I can always count on you to swing in with the absolute best one-liner that fucking kills every time. I adore Temple and the dynamic we were able to build between our characters. These things make the Games worthwhile, and I’m so thankful you were my ally. So thankful that you are my friend.

Thank you to WT , for understanding. Thank you for Wander, for ”I'm not male, so everyone's clear”, for writing the exact kind of character I needed to read right now. I kept asking people to kill Eve, not Wander, not Wander, not Wander, because I knew that watching Wander die would be like watching a part of myself go too. I think that’s why it hurt so much. Thanks, also, for spending time writing the Bloodbath with me. My life would be a lot more boring without such gems as “Hey, do you think Eve would scream if she got her leg chopped off?” You’re fucking incredible.

Thank you to aya and L△LIA , for the lovely plotting. It was so fun to work with y’all, and I do hope we get all those posts filled in. You two are just fantastic people to write with. You’re so wildly creative and so willing to do fun things just because you can. Sometimes it’s a lot of work to go above and beyond in the Games, to put in that extra effort, but you two are so good at that. Thanks for all the fun.

Thank you, finally, to everyone who wrote with me in the Games. I can’t thank everyone individually because I do genuinely worry about getting the words wrong (yeah, I know, I’m learning), but know this: every word you write is worth it. The threads have been nothing short of spectacular, and I’m thankful for all the development, even the moments that were difficult. Thank you, thank you, thank you.