sell your soul — nico & raven. [ day 8 ]

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Ash to ash, dust to dust
Everything in God above
Shed a tear, shed your blood

Nico had heard the canons all day.

They had rung through the sky like echoing claps of thunder and lightning, more ominous and terrible than both. The sound of death, mixing with the sound of rain. Nico wonders if he will ever again be able to think of one without the other, if they will forever be conjoined in his mind, if he will ever look at another sunflower without remembering both the love that he had lost and the life that he had taken.

He wonder if he will be given the chance.

Nico had not been born hopeful.

He had been born for blood, with a knife in his back and another pressed against his throat, with threats in all directions. He had never know peace, had only ever known ice and fire, and where another person could have met that with relentless determination stemmed from relentless hope, Nico had chosen hunger and anger as his weapons, and in a world that forced him to live in extremes, he chose his path of wild night and abandoned the light.

Now though, Francis's light burns inside of him.

Now he wonders.

Now he hopes.

Because of Francis, because of the promise that he had made to the other, Nico can't help but hope, can't help but wonder—what would his life look like if he got out of here? How was he going to get out? He's not the only tribute left, not by a long shot, knows that there is more death to come, more death to be spilt at his own hand if he is to make it back home. He stares into the sky, watches as Hisidrio's face flashes across the dark clouds, the sneers when it skips from Ronan onto Exover Endor. That means Diana is still alive, he thinks to himself, and finds that he is both angry and glad for it.

But wants her dead.

But he wants to kill her himself.

Jayne and Francis's blood is still all over him, staining the clothes he wears under his armor dark brown. Nico doesn't tremble when he thinks about it, but every so often it makes his spine tingle, reminds him to stand straighter, to be taller, to be better. He is going to go home to Twelve and look Carter Laws in the face, no matter the cost, no matter the consequence—he promised Francis that he would live. He hadn't been prepared to pay the cost of that glory, but he had paid it all the same, and Nico would not dishonor his death.

Fuck you, Nico Thorne.

He hears Jayne's last words over and over, uses them as fodder for the fire burning in his chest, turning everything into ash and decay. Grief burns through him, turning his body into a wasteland of all that Nico had lost, using every moment of pain to push him further and further forwards. His entire life has been built around the idea that he is the hero of this story, that his mother had built him up to rain vengeance and bloodshed down on the man who had taken from her a husband, and when Panem had protected him, his mission had become one of taking back from the nation the iron they had stolen away from him. He turns last words into his lifeblood. Fuck you, Nico Thorne rings in his head, reminding him that even the hero of his own story is the villain in anothers, reminding him that in order to take the crown he must enact the same cruelties on another as have been enacted unto him. You have to tend to your wounds and rein your anger in, he remembers, and it's enough. It has to be. It has to be enough to remind Nico that his weakness is his strength, that his hunger does not need to be feral in order to be powerful, that it must be a tool in his arsenal rather than an uncontrollable inferno.

Memory is a knife in his heart.

He stands tall anyways.

Sitting astride Honey, the silence is deafening. It feels like he can hear everything in the arena, like the entire place is hollow and aching to match the abyss expanding inside of Nico's chest. The place where love once bloomed, the place where anger had learned how to be a weapon and hope had turned itself strong. The air mists at him, and by the time he reaches the edges of the sunflower fields, the chill has sunk deep into his bones.

It tempers the fire in him, but when he sees a girl ahead of him, he wills it back to brightness.

"Five," he calls out, and remembers the first time that he had ever called Francis that in his head, remembers seeing him from across the training center. His scars are his power—they have to be. Rein your anger in.

He will crumple underneath them if they aren't.

"Raven," he amends. Perhaps it's foolhardy to call out to her rather than try to sneak up on her. Perhaps he should have waited until night fell once again, and under another cloudless sky slit her throat in the dark of night. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Perhaps, he is lonely.

"What is it that they call a group of raven's again?" He's close now, close enough to see the expression on her face, to see that she is decorated in just as much armor as Nico himself is. Another would expect a flicker of fear to dance through their chest, but Nico feels only the frightening calm of someone who has taken a life before, of someone who will again if they have to, and Nico does. Fuck you, Nico Thorne. "A murder?" He says it with a lilt to the end of the sentence, edging Honey to circle around her. "Or is it an unkindness." He's almost tongue in cheek, a hollow amusement drifting through him, sardonic in nature.

"Are you who I have to thank for Hisidrio, then?"

He strikes before giving her the chance to answer.

You cannot give enough
Finally become second to none
In a kingdom of one

[ nico attacks raven, pitchfork (spear) ]

W5u2_1hXCLspear

[ 3097 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage (Spear) ]


ACCURACY.


[ nico attacks raven, pitchfork (spear) ]

spear


[ 3184 -- Deep Gash on Neck -- 10.0 damage (Spear) + 1 Strength ]

spear·spear

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

A gentle nibble tickles at the lobe of my ear by a rodent of unexpected cuteness. Softly the tip of my fingers ventures to brush her between the eyes, and only slightly does she flinch at the contact. A heavy sigh shuffles from my lungs, unable to blame her for her initial reaction - I did slaughter Ex after all, while he brought me nearly as close. But after a second of reconsideration, she nuzzles into my calloused fingertip, granting me comfort far more then she, or anyone, or even myself, could ever understand. The anthem blares before us within the brewing night’s sky, capturing both of our attention alike.

The beat of my heart halts entirely while speeding up beyond a healthy pulse all at the same time. Bile of yesterday’s meal curls in my stomach, tempting to erupt across my dehydrated tongue at the sight of the second person to overtake the projection. Tears automatically jolt in my eyes, though the thoughts of my mind remain as numb as the sense of my being - almost rejecting the facts at hand. But the rest of my body? Tears refute to drop from the collection within my eyes, and eventually I realize the rattling that’s overtaking my every limbs. Grave concern plagues my final companion, as she snuggles into the crook of my neck.

Far beyond the closure of the anthem, going greatly into the licks of the moon’s hour, and even to the sun ray’s reaching beyond the horizon to welcome a new day - I simply stare at where his face radiated down upon me. How could Ronan escape this awful plain, leaving me to relish in this nightmare without him? From the wake of this Game I entered with the intentions of going alone. And within a couple of days mere Strangers altered me to rely on not just their protection, but their company even more so. Now isolation greets me once more, and I actually find myself cursing it.

The good don’t belong within this realm - that must mean that Ronan is much better than me… I can’t really be surprised at that.

The label of a murderer now tattoos me in the most awful way. Sure Rora had killed, but she did so with the intent of protecting her friends. A breath was stolen by me simply to save my Siblings heartache, to preserve a vow that doesn’t balance against a life. How many remain now? How many more will meet my blade simply out of my cowardliness to achieve my purpose of coming here, to not break a promise I didn’t even want to make? Too many questions with no answers overwhelms my lack of knowledge, shaking my head in refusal to attempt at figuring anything out.

Bones crack in pain with a force back to my feet, somewhat as I lean against my horse who still goes unnamed. Breaks still wound what feels to be every inch of my body, stiffness worsening it from unknown of countless hours of sitting without a slight shift. The carol of Ex’s singing continues to ring in my ears, harmonizing against Severus’s voice of an angel. Ahead of me I swear I see Rora and Ronan dancing away this journey through hell. But I have no doubt all of this is simply my imagination. Another sigh crackles through my throat. This dream of a haven in this nightmare was of Ex’s persona, not my own.

“We should keep going Bev, try to get the fuck out of here in one way or another.” The same as yesterday, I’ll die or be one step closer to remaining as I never wished. Again the likes of my head shakes in both shame and confusion in myself. All too gently I scoop Beverly into my hand, sheltering her in my back in determination to keep her safe - even if she’s a Rat of the enemy.

Agony creeks me onto my horse, knowing all too well there’s no other option to travel. Every trot of my unnamed horse sends lightning strikes of pain throughout my entire body, while I know it’s far less than the misery that walking would bring.

From the corners of the unknown a voice breaches out to my senses. “Five.” It doesn’t take long for my vision to adjust upon the speaker, a District Partner of another I fought two days prior - while I surely won’t fault him for that. A target of death already reigns above all of our heads, further blame isn’t required. Hesitation doesn’t course me as I continue to direct my horse’s trot closer to him. His features surely shined memory of the circuit tent, while I’m nearly certain our blades never crossed one another.

“Raven.” Formalities curl across his tongue next, causing me to wonder if it’s to prove his knowledge or to not insult me with a title of simply my district number - or perhaps neither. Lips part upon my features, tempted to ask for his own name, as solely his District is known to me. But guilt for not knowing it already hesitates me, closing my ajar lips as quickly as they opened. And fortunately just in time for his words to sprinkle again, almost making it appear that silence remained me simply to not be rude.

There’s no certainty of the comments to spark from his lips, only for the actions that will surely break between us. Will he be humorous like Ex? Sweet like Rora? Wise like Severus? Dark like Ronan? No - as it’s been quickly learned that no two people are the same.

“What is it that they call a group of raven’s again?” He questions, baffling my eyebrows to an arch inward with confusion. Why did that matter? “A murder?” He states with a tone of question again, creating me to believe all his wonders are rhetorical. As of yesterday I am a murderer though. “Or is it an unkindness?” Another word that describes me flutters from his lips, while I’m still left uncertain of his point.

Instinctively I depart from my unnamed horse, preparing for the battle ahead. If I wouldn’t take the advantage against the strongest kid I know yesterday, I won’t against this Stranger ahead of me. The length of his strength is beyond my grasp, while surely it possesses him if he’s made it thus far - while his words are definitely beyond my grasp. “Are you who I have to thank for Hisidrio, then?” Another question relishes from his throat, creaking my head to the side in further confusion.

But before there’s a chance to answer him, his fork of a weapon grazes harshly against my neck. Pain like yesterday refutes to collapse me however, murderer now stretching my tolerance, acceptance coddling me closer to any outcome the fates wishes upon me. Eyes darken upon my features, though not towards the likes of Twelve’s actions - but rather the battle I know that’s inevitable.

“No, I didn’t take his life.” His face within the anthem flashes before me, and if not for that I wouldn’t know of him. “I did…” Kill Ex, a blind boy of strength who didn’t deserve such - but my voice is unable to form words of such facts, as though doing so would be accepting of it. “I am a murderer though. But I’m not a group of ravens anymore, just one.” Vision ventures to my bag dangling upon my unnamed horse.

No longer am I alone. It may be a rat waiting for my attention, but it’s someone. Again there’s more of a reason to fight then simply the vow I never wished to make. For Beverly, for Ex, and Ronan, Severus, and Rora, for Dove, and for my Siblings, I have a reason to fight - even if not one to live.

“What about you? Obviously you’re alone here and now to… But do you have anyone you’re fighting for? Or just fighting because you don’t know what else to do?” Now its questions twirling from my own wonder, curious to know of the new Opponent before me. Even if I stole a life, at least I was able to learn about him beforehand. Unfortunately, however, what’s more important is not allowing this one who I seek to understand to capture my own life with ease, he at least has to fight for it first. And with that dedication, the lips of my blade glide to both kiss away and create my future pain.

{Breathtaking Table done by the Beautiful Dars <3}

{Raven attacks Nico ~ Hatchet (Axe)}
BUvv9TR3Qdaxe
{11062 -- Shallow Cut on Back of Head -- 4.5 damage
(Axe)} axe

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Ash to ash, dust to dust
Everything in God above
Shed a tear, shed your blood

When his pitchfork slices into her neck, 

Nico feels no remorse.

A part of him expects it to come, the sinking guilt, and the absent pain of causing another human being harm. That part of him that loved, the part of him that had allowed itself to be loved—that's where he expects his own remorse to sit.

His entire life had been leading up to the moment where he would murder another, where he would shove a blade between a man's forth and fifth ribs the same way one had been shoved between his fathers. He had waited a decade for the moment, had always known that he would be the one to labor for the revenge his mother so desperately deserved, the revenge she so desperately needed. But he has spent the last week unlearning this, unlearning who he is and reshaping himself into someone that deserved justice rather than someone who would steal vengeance, and he thinks that a part of that comes with having a heart, comes with being loved.

He thinks if Myrcella and Jessica and Francis were still here, perhaps then he would still feel something, would still feel angry with himself for spilling the blood of an innocent.

Even an innocent with blood on their hands.

Because that's the truth of it, isn't it? They are all, each and every one of them in this light-forsaken place of blood and sand, innocent. Even the volunteers, Nico has realized, had been innocents, pawns in a game that brought pleasure to no one but those in power. Those reaped, even the ones who had killed their fellow tributes, were all innocent of the carnage that they wrought. His fight was against the system that had brought them all here, and so he feels empty when Raven calls herself a murderer.

Fuck you, Nico Thorne, he remembers.

He is the villain in Jayne's story, and yet—he is not. Nico had chosen to kill her, had chosen to walk up to her and steal life from her, had chosen to do it before she could see one last sunset, and before she could pray one more night that stars would shine down on them. Nico takes that, will bear that truth for the rest of his life even if it's only minutes longer, but he is finally realizing that this truth is not the whole truth.

I'm sorry they made you a part of this.
I'm not sorry for what they made me do.
I'm not sorry for what they made me.

                      I'm not sorry I'm winning this game.

“No, I didn’t take his life,” Raven replies, and it makes Nico purse his lips. When she trails off on her next words, it makes Nico curious, makes him narrow his eyes at her, watching her eyes movement as closely as he can, trying to learn, trying to understand, trying to win.

Rein your anger in.

"Pity," he replies, cocking his head to the side. He raises his brows, and he can feel where the movement pulls the skin on his face taut, the face now marred by scars left behind by Hisidrio himself. He can't help but want this, want to talk to her, want to get his heart to start beating again, even if just in anger and the heat of adrenaline. "I wouldn't have minded taking out the person who killed him." He lifts his shoulders, shrugging, making a face. "Transitive property, or something."

“I am a murderer though. But I’m not a group of ravens anymore, just one.”

That piques Nico's interest far more than her name ever had, sends a cruel shiver down his spine. We're a matched pair, he wants to reply, feels the words right there on the tip of his tongue, but he bites them back, tasting the bitterness in them even before they have left his mouth. Rein your anger in. 

“What about you? Obviously, you’re alone here and now to… But do you have anyone you’re fighting for? Or just fighting because you don’t know what else to do?”

It's a strange question to be asked, more telling than he thinks she must realize. Just for the fact that she's asked it, Nico knows now that she has exactly that—someone to fight for, a cause, a reason. That makes her infinitely more dangerous.

Nico knows about causes.

Nico knows about callings.

He should see her blow coming. He had just done the same to her, had he not? Used a question to distract her? It makes him feel foolish when she manages to catch him, her hatchet sinking into his helmet and leaving it cracked, nearly ruined. His crown of bones, his halo of death—it hangs now, and he knows that another blow will send it crumbling, leaving his head completely exposed. He expects anger, but none of his emotions are working the way that he has always understood them to, thinks absently that maybe this grief has changed him in ways that he will never be able to understand. "There's not anything else to do," he spits at her, a reflex reaction he hadn't seen coming. It's like the simmering heat of anger and hunger is still there, but he doesn't know how to tap into it, doesn't know how to channel it. the fire is just there, settled below his skin, turning his veins into ash and his lungs into coal.

It will fight for him, but it doesn't need him to do so.

"Don't you get that by now?" He breathes heavily, face serious, but mocking laughter lingering in his voice. An almost incredulity. An absolutely cruel edge. "We're all alone here. Even when we weren't." Rein your anger in. "Whoever you killed, who I killed, the people we fought alongside—maybe we were all fighting for people back home, but we're fighting for them, too."

He doesn't make any gestures towards the sky, doesn't even try to look for one of the hidden cameras he knows must be all over the arena, screens trained directly on both their faces. But she'll know who he means. He thinks any tribute would, any tribute must.

The people who had taken everything from him.

The people who had made sure he was born with nothing.

It's a dance of death between the raven and the wolf, and he matches her blow back with one of his own. He wants her to stay, needs to her to keep talking to keep him sane, to keep him grounded, but only one person can win these games.

And that barbed wire crown is his.

It has to be.

You cannot give enough
Finally become second to none
In a kingdom of one

[ nico attacks raven, pitchfork (spear) ]

JQEnUWoQTDspear

[ 3132 -- Block -- 0.0 damage (Spear) ]

spear

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

The brunt of my weapon forces a brutal crack across the likes of my Opponent’s head guard. The fractures spread across the now brittle metal like veins glowing beneath skin. My eyes should be directed towards Twelve’s own blade, while instead they’re tunneled upon his helmet. A sigh exhales from my lips in a twirl of relief and fear. It appears that even a mere flick will bring the gear of protection to complete shambles, but it’s not a bone breaching agonizing pain, nor skin slicing unforgivingly - it’s somewhat satisfying to break from causing such destruction, while I know it’s exactly that devastation that I actually need to cause.

“There’s not anything else to do.” Anger spews across his tongue, almost as if furious by the retaliation of my determination. Or perhaps its frustration with himself for allowing his bubble to get pierced by my axe, even if it was solely his armor touched, as if his personal expectations are raised to standards of Careers. Maybe he believes perfection is required for survival, while unfortunately it’s solely murder.

Still the likes of my irises are tuned purely upon his helmet, baffled by my force being able to create such ruins - until his voice curls once more in a reminder of the task at hand. “Don’t you get that by now?” A hefty breath exhales with his last word, his voice sprinkled with laughter, while I’m lost to the meaning at hand - distracted by guessing the truth of his emotions. The continuation of his comments I remain focused on, standing as a statue in preparation with intent of understand the Foe before me. “We’re all alone here. Even when we weren’t.” A short pause dances silence between us. “Whoever you killed, who I killed, the people we fought alongside- maybe we were all fighting for people back home, but we’re fighting for them, too.” A truer statement couldn’t have been made.

Stubborn isolation brought me into this nightmare, while it took no time at all for a group of enemies to soften that determination and have me fighting not just along side them - but for them. Just as Ex discovered his light within this darkness, my allies restarted my heart in a land I believed it would never truly beat again. And even the ones I fought against, the one I killed… My eyes venture to my horse, where a bag hangs and little rat waits for me within - I’m fighting for Ex as well. Anger may be spitting from the boy before me, while honesty still lingers greatly upon his lips. But once more that doesn’t mean I’ll willingly crumble for another.

Not just instincts direct the pull of my protection, but a new found will to go beyond allowing complete control to the fates. The neck of my axe is what collides with Twelve’s weapon this time, unwilling to allow it to carve again into my own. The fates may have brought me thus far, but the reigns transfer to my own determination now. The pulses of all who I hold close may have seized from this plain, but it’s the past beats of their hearts that continue my own. Health may glisten from the Opponent before me, while my Being’s already decomposing, but I won’t cave too such. If I were to give up, Ex would surely kill me again wherever he waits for not caring for Beverly as I promise. Again my eyes glance over to that bag, for not all hearts have abandoned me to view up above.

“You’re right. I am fighting for the allies I lost, and the one that I killed. I’m fighting for another that was stolen in another Game, and for my siblings back home.” The tip of my weapon is brought above my shoulder, both hands grip its handle, prepared to do exactly as my words tell - to fight for so many. The lower half of my physical existence threatens to snap beneath me at any moment, while I fight against that too. “Part of me ventured into this damned place to be killed… To rejoin with someone I lost.” Truth barrels from my tongue like never before. “But now I know that so many would kill me over and over again if I were to willingly die here. And I don’t think I even want to anymore.” And with that new strive, my weapon strikes again.

{Breathtaking Table done by the Beautiful Dars <3}

{Raven attacks Nico ~ Hatchet (Axe)}
4XgimDA3Scaxe
{11090 -- Block -- 0.0 damage
(Axe)}

Accuracy

axe
{11002 -- Deep Gash on Back -- 8.5 damage
(Axe) +1 Strength}axe·axe

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Ash to ash, dust to dust
Everything in God above
Shed a tear, shed your blood

Nico feels hollow in spite of his proximity to death. 

He maybe expected to feel something more, expected that standing before another tribute knowing that only one of them would walk away would do something more to his beating heart, that he would feel terror and fear and an ache for life. He feels alive, can feel the point of impact where Raven's ax had nearly shattered his helmet of bones, can feel where her eyes trace his frame, trying to learn him and understand him the same way that he is trying to learn her. Fuck you, Nico Thorne, rings around in his head though, over and over and then over again. He remembers the look of pain and anger on Jayne's face, remembers what it felt like to be a villain and what it feels like to be a failed hero, knows that they are one in the same and that doing anything other than fulfilling his promise to Francis is not something that he could bear to live with anyways.

Rein your anger in.

Perhaps he shouldn't take him so literally, shouldn't channel those words into his own personal mantra to live by. Perhaps he shouldn't take those words to mean he needs to push everything else out, that he should ignore the pain and hope as much as he is ignoring his anger.

Nico is only marginally surprised when she meets his blow.

He knows that it was clumsy, knows that he has fought better battles, that when he plunged his pitchfork into Jayne's face, he had a degree of surprise on his side, and the knowledge that he was fighting against someone inexperienced, someone who despite her will to live, was never going to make it out of here in anything but a body bag anyways.

Raven is different.

And yet, she's not.

“You’re right. I am fighting for the allies I lost, and the one that I killed. I’m fighting for another that was stolen in another Game, and for my siblings back home,” she responds, and Nico realizes that she doesn't understand, that she does not follow him and that perhaps she never will. He wonders, absently, if she even realizes the truth of their fates, the truth of this world they have been tossed into. The easiest lies to tell are the ones we want to be true, he thinks to himself, breathing heavily. The easiest lies to tell are the ones we don't realize are lies.

In another life, Nico wouldn't fault her for not connecting the dots, for not reading his thoughts about ruin and anger and justice and realize that he hadn't meant he was fighting for the allies that he lost, though that was certainly not untrue.

He had meant they were a show.

A spectacle.

Entertainment.

Nico had every intention of volunteering that morning, had wanted nothing more than to put his hat into the ring and claim twenty-three lives for the sake of finding out what happened to one, for the sake of winning the games just so that he could go to the Capitol and find the man who had put a knife in his fathers belly. He had every intention of volunteering, if only just so that he could run a knife along the throat of a murderer, but even that agency had been taken from Nico. He was not even allowed his anger, not even allowed his choice to seek out vengeance. Panem had taken from him a father, and then it had taken from him a mother, had made sure that she had nothing to keep herself alive, had made sure that the only thing she could cling to was hope—and then snatched that from her hands as well, left her with only anger and coal dust.

It hadn't taken long to realize that this was a falsity, a show the Panem convinced itself was necessary, was good, was what kept their world in order. They are just pawns though, he and Raven, and he doesn't know how to tell her that.

So instead he stays hollow.

Instead, he plays the game.

“Part of me ventured into this damned place to be killed… To rejoin with someone I lost,” she says, and Nico can feel the truth in her words, can feel the hurried honesty of letting something off your chest that you don't know how to bear any longer. Nico understands it all too well. "But now I know that so many would kill me over and over again if I were to willingly die here. And I don’t think I even want to anymore.”

She strikes like lightning, and Nico only has a moment to react. He twists away as best that he can, and when her hatchet catches the back of his vest, the sound of tearing metal would be enough to set anyone on edge.

There are a million things he wants to say back to her, but there's a single thought at the forefront of his mind that he can't let go of, a nagging want for knowledge he doesn't know how to give up. "You were Sev's ally, right?" He says it quickly, feeling his heartbeat pick up just at the thought of the younger boy. He had reminded him, in so many strange ways, of Taylor, of the fact that he had left his chosen family behind to die and possibly never be seen again. He can't help but wonder if he died well, if he died quietly or if he died fighting. He knows it happened sometime in the chaos of the skeleton creature, he's pretty sure, but he wants to know if Raven loved him, if she looked out for him the way Nico almost wishes that he could have. He squares his jaw though. Rein your anger in, Francis had said, but Nico needs to reign everything in if he is to keep a level head.

Hope and regret included.

"Who'd you kill in his honor then, if not Hisidrio? Take down your ally?" There's a burst of cruel laughter in his voice, but a pain in his eyes he couldn't try to hide if he wanted to. "Don't tell me that soft bitch Diana was the one who took out the other tributes yesterday."

He retaliates just as quick.

You cannot give enough
Finally become second to none
In a kingdom of one

[ nico attacks raven, pitchfork (spear) ]

vnFvPNLujhspear

[ 3077 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage (Spear) ]

spear

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Rejection rings across the edge of my weapon, singing of no success of destruction from my impact. Not even a scratch of metal stands ahead of me upon my Opponent. But immediately something presses me to retract the likes of my weapon and swing again, before he has a chance to retaliate. From the corner of my vision I notice him dancing away from the sudden rage of my determination, while still another piece of his armor is brutally cracked by my force - and again it’s brought to nearly full disarray. It seems as though I’m demolishing his protection piece by piece, as if destroying his metaphorical walls to eventually breach his core.

Pristine condition rests upon him, an actual fresh scrape or bruise absent from his deep porcelain skin. Hope continues to rest within me however, despite the steps of being a corpse nearly feet away from my existence. Anger doesn’t revenge from his lips this round, as if a mutual understanding was subtly forming between the likes of our souls. He speaks of a name that yanks me back to a reminder of why I persist to keep fighting.

“You were Sev’s ally, right?” Comfort sounds from his voice to my absorption of his words, though perhaps it’s merely the person he talks of that creates such. Gently my head nods in response, nearly speechless as a flash yanks me back to the brutal memory of cradling that baby from three as he took his final breath. Again it feels as though my heart speeds and halts entirely at the same time, my own breath nearly stolen from my chest. “Who’d you kill in his honor then, if not Hisidrio? Take down your ally?” And with that my memories of this nightmare are brought from Severus to Ronan, and my desperate search to find him.

It’s difficult to swallow an acceptance that it was merely yesterday that Ro’s sight was lost to me. The rain poured so heavily that I couldn’t see more then a few feet before me. The rawness of my throat still burns as I gulp at the recollection, from how much my voice screamed for his return. And when I found Ex instead of my beloved ally, I killed as if that’d bring him back to me. But it wasn’t until later, after the heavy storm had passed, that I finally discovered Ronan’s face once more - projected upon the stars above, along with the first person I ever killed. No, I’d never take down my ally. Softly my head shakes back and forth this time rather than a nod.

“Don’t tell me that soft bitch Diana was the one who took out the other tributes yesterday.” He questions, or demands, while I’m unable to register the difference. Still my head is amongst the clouds where their faces played within anthems, as if that may have eased my agony. But my disarray apparently isn’t too debilitating, as I swerve from his desire to knack me once more.

Numbness courses my eyes that are brought to stare directly at my Opponent’s. “Saturn killed Sev, just as he killed Rora. But my other ally killed him before I had a chance.” A tuneless voice pulls from my core, monotoned in every sense of the manner. “And I killed his ally, Ex - but it wasn’t out of revenge. I killed him to survive, to survive for Severus, and Rora, and now Ronan too. Just as I’ll kill you for them, not to kill in their honor… but to live for their honor.” Because I know that’s exactly what they’d want out of me.

A sprinkle of Ex seems to coax through me, as I tilt my head to the side in wonder. “And what’s your deal with Hisidrio? School boy crush? Boy dips another boy’s man-bun in glue, kinda thing? Or did he take someone from you?” A comical question sparks from my tongue, while my tone remains emotionless. But before I have a chance to dissect this true curiosity, my weapon pierces once more - this cat will surely not let curiosity kill her.

{Breathtaking Table done by the Beautiful Dars <3}

{Raven attacks Nico ~ Hatchet (Axe)}
0bbXJWXze7axe
{11124 -- Shallow Cut on Right Hip -- 3.5 damage
(Axe)}axe

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Ash to ash, dust to dust
Everything in God above
Shed a tear, shed your blood

Saturn.

The mention of the boy from One nearly sets Nico's heart on fire, makes something snarling and cruel flare up in the hollow of his chest, and he has to make the conscious decision to tame the beast, the breathe and remember. Reign your anger in. Saturn was... The thought of him makes Nico want to come unraveled, remembering the day in the tent where Death came to life, the day where Saturn struck out at Jessica with his flaming spear and stole the life from her bones.

Reign your anger in.
Reign your anger in.
Reign your anger in.

Nico hears Francis inside of his head over and over and over again, coaching him, reminding him of the boy that he promised he would become, of the boy that he had slowly started turning into for the sake of love. He's trying, trying so desperately hard to keep his life in his own hands, to make sure that grief doesn't make Death start to look like an old friend that can carry him across the bridge and into the arms of his friends. He's afraid that if he grieves the way he wants to, the way he needs to, that he will get lost in it, that he will start to think about the father that he lost and wonder what it would be like to meet him. He's afraid that if he remembers the happiness he felt with Francis and if he feels the grief that he needs to, that he will choose happiness.

“Saturn killed Sev, just as he killed Rora. But my other ally killed him before I had a chance.”

"Good thing Saturn is dead now." He says it more for himself, but it's response enough at first, enough to tamper the fire building in his bones, enough of a reminder that there is vengeance to be had and a game to be won. She goes on though, doesn't stop at telling Nico how Severus died—no, she tells him exactly who she killed. "Only regret is that I didn't slit his throat myself."

He almost latches onto it, Exover's name. He remembers the night in the elevator all too well, remembers already back then how badly he'd wanted to protect Francis, how he'd wanted to make sure that they all went into the arena with clear heads. He'd seen the two of them together, and when Exover had asked Nico to press the button to Five, he'd known exactly which tribute it was that Exover was going to go and see. He hadn't even thought twice about it, hadn't considered the cruelty of letting a blind boy out on the wrong floor, hadn't considered just exactly how callous and cruel it was, had only known that if Exover went to Francis, then Francis might have to kill him in the arena, might have to kill someone he truly cared for—and Nico couldn't watch that happen.

The cut across his hip is shallow, and as much as it hurts, he wills it away the same way that he has willed away everything else.

If he cannot feel grief, then he will be a walking abyss.

"I suppose we're two sides of a similar coin then, you and I." They pace around each other, a ance of wills and wits, and Nico can feel just how matched they are. Every time she speaks, there's a strange aching in his chest, a wanting to be understood once again. "Fighting for the people that we loved, the people that we lost."

And that's the real tragedy, isn't it? That they are one and the same? Nico doesn't have a home to go back to, not really, knows that in this arena he has burned every bridge he ever built save perhaps the one he built to Taylor. He knows that his mother will be watching, and that she probably spat at the screen the first time he smiled, twisted her hands together and started screaming when she realized he had three allies, that he was working on a team. He knows that Reggie won't ever look at him again, that in crossing that line between friend and lover he has lost a piece of his family he will never get back. He feels so hollow without his allies, without Francis, feels the emptiness just expanding further and further through his chest, numbing him to all of the pain and anger that he feels.

Or did he take someone from you?

He feels alone in this world, but he has a promise to keep.

Reign your anger in.

"As for Hisidrio, he's the one who gave me these pretty scars," he says with a smile, but it's not kind in any way. He looks like a wolf, grinning through the blood in his muzzle. Fuck you, Nico Throne, echoes once again, reminding him that every villain has a hero to fight against.

Raven is the hero of her story.

Nico needs to be the hero in his.

You cannot give enough
Finally become second to none
In a kingdom of one

[ nico attacks raven, pitchfork (spear) ]


bcqq|KZw27spear


[ 3012 -- Stabbed in Thigh -- 8.5 damage (Spear) +1 Strength ]

spear

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

The likes of my blade decides to finally breach the pureness of skin, altering from the stubbornness of metal, though it purely pierces into the delicate flesh scarcely. Depth is not reached, true injury unattainable through that strive, while desperation is surely raging every strike of mine. Blood pools upon the scratch merely, leaving no current threat to my Opponent within this battle. Acceptance of survival has abruptly swallowed me into determination, and now the strength to follow such willpower appears absent from my ability. Yet another is viewing me from the grave above, a desire to live radiating from each of the ones I lost as viciously as ever, and the lick of my conclusion is as near as I can ever recall.

But does such agonizing truth part me from my determination? Vision venture to that minor slice left upon his hip, gazing then to the eyes windowing into my Opponent. A promise was made to Eagle less than an hour after my volunteer to hell - one to at least try to return to my siblings. The odds may be terribly against me, but I will never cave too such. For Eagle, Kestrel, and Falcon, for Rora, Severus, and Ronan, for Dove, and even for Ex, I will at least try to stay alive.

The voice of my Opponent draws my attention away from who I’m fighting for, while diving me further into it all at the same time. “I suppose we’re two sides of a similar coin then, you and I.” The frustration he initially pertained sounds to be completely absent from his voice, as if accepting of my Being - while he’ll surely still attempt to slaughtering it. “Fighting for the people that we loved, the people that we lost.” Or still have, though perhaps that’s not the case for him. Maybe all whom he loved has parted from this unruly plain, leaving him in the isolation of their memory. Sorrow does seem to drip from his words, even it it doesn’t from his tone.

Lostness appears to overtake his eyes momentarily, as he’s probably brought to a different land entirely. Just for a second he’s frozen, with an expression I empathize with all too well. Until he’s brought back, remembering the mention another which alters his demeanor, even sliding a grin upon his features. “As for Hisidrio, he’s the one who gave me these pretty scars.” It almost sounds as though pride is shinning from his voice. Not just one, but two scars glisten upon his cheeks - marking him with battle wounds that would probably scare a small child, while not enough is known about him to be intimidated myself. Another scar, far more fresh than the other two, tattoos his neck with a reminder of this war. The infant one upon my own neck pulses in pain, making me wonder if it was revenge that had him strike there.

And before further wonders and guesses can ravel in my thoughts, the tip of his weapon dives deep into the likes of my thigh - causing further numbness of pain against my depleting body. Red goo exits my own flesh rapidly, and instincts scream for me to aid it. But the haven of licking wounds can not occur until this battle concludes with the final beat of someone’s heart. Fingers twitch upon my hands, while concentration tunnels upon what has to be done.

Lips part, loosening my clenched teeth, as my tongue twitches with questions. The first to sprinkle is a wonder of why this separate war had started between him and Hisidrio - while temporarily my lips seal, unwilling to remain with the drama of negativity. “People that we loved… People that we lost.” Just slightly does my voice crack. Gratitude never extended to my siblings, though it should have, while I always remained in the spite of our mutual existence. But now that miles separate us, and death separates one of them from us, a need for them has formed. “You speak as if you’re only fighting for people of the past. Is there no one still around that you care for?” Eyebrows arch inward on my features, concerned for the absence someone else may have - the absence I once forced myself to have.

“I do… I used to not think so, but I have siblings who mean everything to me.” Words never even thought before coil from my breath. “Even if you feel like there isn’t anyone that cares about you, know that there is - whether you know it, or even them, they’re out there. And stubborn people like us need to accept this.” But unfortunately my priority must reign in me returning to those ones that I care for - so my weapon strikes.

{Breathtaking Table done by the Beautiful Dars <3}

{Raven attacks Nico ~ Hatchet (Axe)}
XovrQmCEUgaxe
{11034 -- Deep Gash on Left Forearm -- 8.0 damage
(Axe) +1 Strength}axe

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Ash to ash, dust to dust
Everything in God above
Shed a tear, shed your blood

It's her first words that should do him in.

“People that we loved… People that we lost.”

It's an echoing back of what he has just said, it's true, but there's something to her voice that quivers, like her heart is beating at the base of her throat and threatening to choke her. He can hear the way her voice cracked, even if it was only slightly, and Nico knows that he has struck a nerve in her just the same way in another time he would have struck a nerve in himself. The thought of those he had lost, of those he had loved—at another time, just the mention would have sent him spiraling. He remembers being nothing more than a boy, bigger boys teasing him about his dead dad and his mother who might as well be, remembers throwing punches for less.

Perhaps her words wouldn't have been enough to put him even further on edge.

But there's the sight of fresh blood.

It's enough to send his pulse fluttering, enough to make the cavern in his chest start to feel something. It pours out of Raven, drips down from where he struck her in the neck and decorates her armors in startling red. It bursts from where he plunged his pitchfork into her thigh, stains her clothes dark and crimson, and he remembers in a flash being in the training center after his private session with the gamemakers, standing in front of the mirror in his and Jayne's apartment with cracked ribs and bruised viscera, a black eye to match the split knuckles he bore, mirror images of inflicted and endured pain. He had felt like a live wire back then, the sight of all that blood and horror like an electric charge bringing him to life. Fuck you, Nico Thorne, he remembers.

    Like flesh between
    a wolf's teeth,
    he's ravenous.

It was a cruelty that only those who had inflicted that same pain could enjoy, a red that only those who had lived in it could ever truly understand as beautiful. As much blood of his own had been spilled, he had spilled twice that, had turned the training center into his own reckoning and proved to the gamemakers that would underestimate him that he was more wolf than boy, that he was more wild than tamed, that he was as without hope as he was without despair, and for that they could take nothing else from him.

It'd been a foolish notion, Nico knows that now, but he channels that same emotion now. Rein your anger in.

He can see her pain, can see the way her hands flutter and her jaw tightens, and how every nerve ending in her body is telling her to drop her weapon and press her hands against the places where life is slowly leaving her body. Nico understands the emotion all too well, the fear of too soon death and the fear of a slow one, the inability to be sure which of the two is worse.

Nico knows his answer.

He knows the doubt all the same.

“You speak as if you’re only fighting for people of the past. Is there no one still around that you care for?”

In a flash of lightning, Nico remembers District Twelve. He remembers in his training session, how he had channeled the hunger and the pain that he had known for so long and turned it into his weapon. He remembers all the grave-eyed boys, the hungry creatures with nothing better to do with their hands but inflict the pain that had been inflicted on them. Herds of boys, lost wolves with slavering jaws, desperate for a life that had been denied them.

Even then, even among his own peers, Nico had always been a step apart—like them, but also not. A lone wolf of a boy, half-formed and unable to love the way that the others could. In their hunger and loneliness, many of them had found camaraderie, had built themselves a pack of rabid creatures that could protect each other from a world that would see them dead. Nico had always been too focused on being better than them, on being stronger, on waking up every morning to go running before trekking over to the bakery to help with hauling bags of flour for bread that he would never be able to afford.

“I do… I used to not think so, but I have siblings who mean everything to me.” There's a surprise in her voice that Nico picks up on, sure that even Raven herself must hear it. Like she hadn't expected to say what she just said—it does not endear Nico to her, only makes it clear once again that they are in so many ways mirror images. “Even if you feel like there isn’t anyone that cares about you, know that there is - whether you know it, or even them, they’re out there. And stubborn people like us need to accept this.”

When Raven's hatchet swings out at him, Nico is too distracted, too worried about what is happening in his head to realize and duck away again, and this time when her weapon strikes the metal of his armor, it does enough damage to catch at the skin of his arm as well. It makes him suck in air.

As unkind as a plague. That's what he had called himself, that day in the training center when he took down four trainers with nothing but his hunger, with nothing but his will. The wolf is always worse than he seems.

"And what if there was, Raven?" He doesn't know what makes him use her name again, doesn't know what thing inside of him drew upon her name. He doesn't think it's a want for familiarity, not really, but perhaps there's something to that thought.

Perhaps Nico had been alone too long and then shown the light only to have it ripped away from him.

Perhaps he wants it back.

"Would you fall on your knife for me?" He knows her answer to his question before he even asks it, but he asks it all the same, unwilling or unable to answer hers for himself. When he thinks about Twelve, he thinks about a mother who doesn't know how to care for herself and a girl who shouldn't have to watch out for her but would all the same, simply because he had asked it of her. He thinks about Reggie, with his fire and his anger and his bitterness and all that pain of his own, and knows that he wouldn't take him back, that there'd be no comfort in the arms of his best friend any longer. They crossed a line, and Nico stepped backward over it—there was no coming back from that.

Myrcella is dead.
Jessica is dead.
Francis is dead.

Rein your anger in.

Nico will.

Even if it kills him.

"No, I think we both know that you wouldn't."

Then he swings.

You cannot give enough
Finally become second to none
In a kingdom of one

[ nico attacks raven, pitchfork (spear) ]

jVgpenC2Ypspear

[ 3068 -- Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage (Spear) ]

spear

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Before my very eyes a piece of protective gear upon my Enemy shatters entirely, the lick of my weapon still grazing against his skin. Determination of reigning feels to be weaving through the likes of my bones, strengthening me, empowering me to survival for not just the dead but the living alike. Perhaps it’s during the final hour that such willpower is finally coaxing me, too late to do me any good - while of course my vicious mind doesn’t overtake me to drop my attempts in defeat. Another mere scratch decorates against Twelve, again not even close enough to conclude his life before my own, but how many scratches eventually would?

Distraction seemed to be coursing through Twelve’s vein as my blade managed to demolish a chunk of his armor, piercing down to even his own exterior. It’s a mistake no Career would ever allow, a mistake of permitting emotions to contort in a pull away from where attention must reside. And even for a moment after my weapon retreated back to my side, he appears to remain within the flood of his thoughts - almost as though he may get swept away by them. That daydream of darkness would forever swallow me in the past, while here I fight against it as wickedly as I battle against the ones who wish to see me dead.

But suddenly he returns back to the war around us, to this cruel reality that’s as dark as any thoughts we could ever conjure, and his words spark again. “And what if there was, Raven?” Accusation nearly tones his vocals, as if I had asked a question of interrogation. The life that awaits for him back in twelve sounds to be a brutal maze that I may never understand - unforgiving such as my own, though confusing where mine is simply baffling. “Would you fall on your knife for me?” He questions rather rhetorically, his voice already alerting that he knew the answer to such.

Starvation hollowed us Elsus back within my District of five. Negativity was all that was left in the wake of such hunger to fill me. Spite grew for my parents for having us children they knew they couldn’t afford. Resentment flourished against all who were more fortunate than us, shinning them with a light of greed even if they weren’t. Hatred just fostered for everyone and anyone alike. But starvation, poverty, and hopelessness was all that cursed us - further drama unable to fit within our malnutrition cores. This boy from Twelve however? Far more than a single ailment appears to be faltering him, one of which I may never discover - though crave too.

But my Siblings await back at home with aching cores, and sobbing hearts at the potential loss of a second sister. Will I sacrifice my own life, and in turn theirs as well, simply to understand the Foe before me? “No, I think we both know that you wouldn’t.” And none of his statements have be more true compared to that one. The tone of those words are unreachable to me. Is it resentment that’s rejoined his voice, numbness, or perhaps understanding? All that I can register however is the collision of his own weapon into me.

This round it’s a piece of my own armor being ripped to shreds, the likes of my skin kissed gently by his blade. “Would you want me to simply give you my life?” Confusion ripples through my voice, as I’m brought back to my battle with Ex - the bravest boy I knew, who would curse me for simply giving him my life to take. But different strength coursed through Ex then Twelve. With his disability he never wanted anything simply handed to him out of pity, proving his strength was worth far more than his physical existence. My new Opponent however purely has a will to live, craving to achieve it with any means possible.

“Because you picked the wrong person to fight against if you think even for a second I would give my life up.” Perhaps upon the first day there was a desire to die. But with every day that passed, with every person that passed, I discovered a new reason to live. My eyes meet up to the cloudy sky above, trying to stare into the eyes of both the living and the dead - to glance at Eagle. A promise was made to you that I would try, and try I shall. Vision pierces back down to Twelve’s eyes, persistence wielding my stare and my weapon both brutally - because try I will.

{Breathtaking Table done by the Beautiful Dars <3}

{Raven attacks Nico ~ Hatchet (Axe)}
6SYaod4LZRaxe
{11130 -- Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage
(Axe)}axe

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Ash to ash, dust to dust
Everything in God above
Shed a tear, shed your blood

Fear was a funny, fickle thing. 

In theory, it's not an impossible thing to try and understand, not a hard thing to wrap one's mind around. At some point in time or another, everyone feels fear, be it in childhood or as an adult. It's right there, rooted in the heart of a person's heart, in the deepest parts of their soul—the ability to feel fear. Nico remembers being a child and fearing for his life, remembers swallowing dirt and blood as a Peacekeeper stepped on his head and shoved his face into the earth with a cruel laugh just because Nico had the audacity to ask a question.

That had been the first day he went beyond the fence.

He had run, needed to go, to get out, to be as far away from Twelve as he could get himself. He'd heard a whisper of a whisper about it, that section of the fence that was never electrified. He had ducked under it without a second thought or care for his life. It had been the dead of winter then, and even his fear of the creatures that could have been living among the trees hadn't been enough to tamper the blazing inferno of fear he felt at the thought of stepping back inside the fence and living alongside that man. To this day, Nico still wonders if he ever would have gone beyond the boundaries if it hadn't been for that Peacekeeper.

In the woods, everything is dangerous.

Even the things that aren't.

Stepping beyond the fence is like stepping into another world. He would walk through the trees and come across smatterings of paw-prints, dark things trekking over the earth and trying to survive the same way that Nico himself was. The tall trees that he liked to climb as a boy would scrape at his skin mercilessly, branches catching on threadbare clothes he'd have to stitch back together later. The forest created its own traps, little caves and sinkholes, and creatures grey as famine lurked in the shadows waiting to turn Nico into bones. If it hadn't been for that first act of violence, that overwhelming fear of returning, Nico doesn't know if he'd have ever stayed and learned to love the forest for all its monstrosity, if he'd have learned there's beauty in the devastation.

Nico's own blow struck her armor more than anything else, and Nico isn't sure if he managed to catch her skin or not. She barely reacts, except that Nico knows just as well that no reaction is as telling as a scream would be. Some girls are made for heartache, are made from soft things that Nico had never been able to understand, but Raven is all edge, a reflection of himself that he can only barely stand to make sense of. A doomed girl, to be forever mythologized as a ruthless killer with blood on her hands. Even as the victor, even with the crown, the pair of their souls would always be torn to shreds.

“Would you want me to simply give you my life?" Nico can't help but raise his eyebrows at her, the question a foolish parrot of his own that she must know will be met with the same answer. "Because you picked the wrong person to fight against if you think even for a second I would give my life up.”

Nico's first instinct is to scoff, and he gives into it without a second thought, laughing as Raven states the obvious so blatantly. It's a bad decision, and she tears into his armor, shreds it and manages to catch at his skin in the process. He can feel where the wet heat of blood starts to seep into his clothes, and for a flash it makes his body turn to a live wire. 

Rein your anger in.

"That's a fucking fairytale if I've ever heard one," he replies, though the moment the words pass his lips he knows that they are a lie. He doesn't want that, doesn't want to kill another with their hands held up in defense and no desire to live left in their bones. What kind of a person did it take to do that? To slit a person's throat as they made eye contact with you and begged please? 

"Nobody wins the games anyways. Twenty-three kids lose and another walks away heartless." He doesn't know where the words come from, only knows that he needs to say them, only knows that the wolf in his chest was howling from hunger, savage with a strength that would only ever be able to die on its feet. "I'd rather die fighting than live as a murderer."

He could never give up, even if he hadn't made the promise to Francis, even if he hadn't told his mother that he would win just to get to the Capitol and kill the man who had killed Nico's own father. The strength of the wolf comes from the pack, it's true, but it also comes from its hunger for life, from its ability to die fighting, to die kicking and howling towards the blood moon. Nico would never stop fighting until that last breath had been pried from his cold, dead lungs.

The wolf's strength from its ability to say I am here. I dare you to try and rip my throat out. "I'd never forgive you for making me take a life I hadn't fought for." 

Where's the honor in that? 

Fuck you, Nico Thorne, he remembers.

No, he'll earn his title as villain. 

He'll earn his title as a hero. 

You cannot give enough
Finally become second to none
In a kingdom of one

[ nico attacks raven, pitchfork (spear) ]

8crRlBO4OHspear

[ 3187 -- Deep Gash on Stomach -- 9.0 damage (Spear) + 1 Strength ]

spear

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

The remainder of the metal coating his torso with protection crumbles to shamble beneath us, the tip of my blade managing to add yet another mere scratch against his pristine skin. Evidently the taste of my weapon craves for the destruction of armor, desperately destroying all of which that it can reach while scarcely grazing against skin. A sigh fumbles from the likes of my lips, licking death upon the tip of my tongue - while there’s no certainty if it’s that of my own, or the Opponent’s before me, or the others we lost along the way. But death surely resides all around, layering tastebuds and consuming nostrils, there’s certainly no missing it.

“That’s a fucking fairytale if I’ve ever heard one.” The words of his voice arches my eyebrows with confusion, unable to clasp the message his vocals are seeking to deliver. Does he truly wish for the impossible, an easy path from this horrible nightmare? And with that my eyes soften - could any of us truly deny desiring such? Not a single soul remains identical to the next, while surely the ones who seek to live internally plead for an easy escape from this wicked plain. An understanding of this boy grows stronger with every violent impact we make upon each other.

The flicker of belief seems to shift within his irises before he speaks once more. “Nobody wins the games anyways. Twenty-three kids lose and another walks away heartless.” He states with a conviction of solid truth. Maybe he speaks of solely the truth, that none could survive this place without becoming heartless - while every being is still far too different to conclude such a fact. Does it make someone heartless to want to live? “I’d rather die fighting than live as a murderer.” Wisdom brews from his core, reminding me of the tiny Severus if only slightly - because even still, to die fighting or fight to live, we’re fighting all the same, and all equally a murderer.

“I’d never forgive you for making me take a life I hadn’t fought for.” Him and so many others. A mirror of my previous action shines before me, though he manages to demolish the metal guarding my chest with one clean move. Piece by piece we destroy armor. Limb by limb we break bones. Inch by inch we rip skin. Person by person we take lives. We’re all murderers, we’re all heartless, we’re all fighting to live. The shield of our walls are caving, and our physical existence are both being tested.

A smile curls the corners of my lips, my head tilting to the side, Ex overtaking me once more. “Well I’m glad we can agree on something - neither one of us will simply give our life to the other.” The likes of my weapon slings over my shoulder, almost in preparation to retaliate though not quite yet. “But let’s be real, we both knew that already.” And with that hint of humor, the wise, blonde baby from three curdles my thoughts and directs Ex’s persona of comedy, Ronan sprinkling it with darkness. “And we don’t know if the person who survives this shit becomes heartless. I’ve never been a Victor before, have you?” Eyebrows extend into my forehead with this wonder.

“Plus we’re all murderers. Whether we’re living or dead. Whether we fought to live, or fought to not die. Already we’re all murderers.” The mixture of all who I encounter within this place feels to be flustering my mind, breaching me to the edge of insanity - if not pushing me over it entirely. All the energies seize suddenly however, as one glistens through. “But try not to beat yourself up too badly about it if you’re the unfortunately lucky one to make it out of this damned place alive. We all want to live, it’s no one’s fault.” Pain strikes my heart at the memory of Rora, how her sweetness radiated upon us as she faded away. Even to her I promised to keep fighting, to wreck havoc, and wreck havoc I will.

{Breathtaking Table done by the Beautiful Dars <3}

{Raven attacks Nico ~ Hatchet (Axe)}
jxaWuaMItDaxe
{11070 -- Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage
(Axe)}axe

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Ash to ash, dust to dust
Everything in God above
Shed a tear, shed your blood

[ woke up feeling super ill so im going to keep this short for now, but after some more sleep i'll beef it up later with more opening exposition xx sorry ]

“Well I’m glad we can agree on something - neither one of us will simply give our life to the other.” Nico can't help but roll his eyes, and something sarcastic dances on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't get a chance to say it before she's going on. “But let’s be real, we both knew that already. And we don’t know if the person who survives this shit becomes heartless. I’ve never been a Victor before, have you?”

It's all nonsense to Nico, a ridiculous conversation that keeps dancing circles around himself, her parroting the sentiments that he's put forth, but twisting them and misinterpreting them.

She just keeps going though, pushing and pushing, tumbling down into her own head and making her own thoughts darker and darker until her words go from foolish to cruel, from annoying to biting. "Plus we’re all murderers. Whether we’re living or dead. Whether we fought to live, or fought to not die. Already we’re all murderers.” The mixture of all who I encounter within this place feels to be flustering my mind, breaching me to the edge of insanity - if not pushing me over it entirely. All the energies seize suddenly however, as one glistens through. “But try not to beat yourself up too badly about it if you’re the unfortunately lucky one to make it out of this damned place alive. We all want to live, it’s no one’s fault." It's absurd, really, the notion that it's no one's fault, the idea that this haven of chaos has happened through no fault of their own, through no fault of anyone else's. He can't imagine having that kind of frame of mind, can't imagine being so stuck in his own delusions that he can't even see his own guilt, much less the guilt of those who had put them here. 

On anyone else, it might have made Nico spiral himself, might have made him give into the wolf howling in his chest, to bear his canines and try to tear her apart with his teeth.

Fuck you, Nico Thorne.

He doesn't give in.

He has a title to earn. 

Rein your anger in. 

The cut across his should is shallow, and expected, and he twists away from her as best the he can. She's chipped away her his armor and the skin is exposed, so he does his best to keep his mind clear, to keep his heart steady and allow his grief and his anger to be tools rather than monsters.

Their hunger will be his own.

"You really want to tell me you'd feel the same being an executioner as you feel about killing Exover in battle?" he cocks his head to the side, eyebrows raised, something darkly haughty playing across his face, a false arrogance built by kings that Nico has no right to don.

He does it all the same.

"If you're telling me that you're not already heartless, that these games haven't already killed who you used to be, then you're delusional, Raven."

Then he swings.

You cannot give enough
Finally become second to none
In a kingdom of one

[ nico attacks raven, pitchfork (spear) ]

TReFn8aUdOspear

[ 3153 -- Stabbed in Calf -- 8.5 damage (Spear) +1 Strength ]

spear

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

The blockade of protection has been chipped away after vigorous swing after vigorous swing from the brunt of my axe. Skin was sliced in between, and once again that porcelain exterior is scratched - scarcely scratched. Has the effort for accepting a vow to try at surviving been for mere nothing? The limit of my life tastes to be dwindling severely, as the aroma of my blood dwindles against my tongue. And mere shattered metal and innocent scrapes mark the Opponent standing between myself and this survival I promised to try to maintain. But does such brutal facts negate me from fulfilling that promise? A rough sigh curls across my drying tongue, temptation pulling me in two different directions.

A distant voice curdles within my core, claiming the sweet wisdom of Severus, the gentle strength of Rora, the soothing darkness of Ronan, and even the alluring draw of Dove. That mixture of a voice calls for me to reach it, to crumble as they never wished to, while at the same time it’s screaming for me not to. “You really want to tell me you’d feel the same being an executioner as you feel about killing Exover in battle?” His voice brings the likes of confusion to my eyes, while I’m brought back to the task at hand. I promised to try, and try I shall. But what is it that he speaks of?

“If you’re telling me that you’re not already heartless, that these games haven’t killed who you used to be, then you’re delusional, Raven.” The tone of his voice twists with a harshness like he knows me. Perhaps I am delusional. Maybe I always have been. But the accusation that tunes his words is baffling me, potentially proving that I truly am delusional for not understanding. And with that his weapon swipes across the back of my leg, and I swear I can feel my feet giveaway - while I somehow remain upon them, refuting to cave to such.

The palm of my hand presses against the ribs caging my heart, and I can feel the rapid beat wickedly pulsing against it. “Nope, my heart is still there.” The likes of my hand returns to the handle of my weapon, preparing to fight within this battle until my final breath. “But you’re right, this game has killed who I used to be… When my voice raised to volunteer, I was volunteering to join Dove wherever she is now. This place though?” Memories flutter back to Ex, and I realize his meaning - I have discovered life within this nightmare where life is taken.

“This place has given me a heart - a heart to care about others, to protect those ones I care about, and to return home to the other ones I care about.” Desperate eyes of compassion stare within my Opponent’s, wondering if he can possibly understand. “I don’t think it’s heartless to want to live, I think it makes us human.” Because I do want to live, even if it means taking another’s to do so. But taking his means giving back Rora’s, and Severus’s, and Ronan’s, and even Dove’s. Taking his means saving the hearts of Eagle’s, and Falcon’s, and Kestrel’s. And for them, and for even myself, my fingers stretch against the handle of my weapon - and I swing for them.

{Breathtaking Table done by the Beautiful Dars <3}

{Raven attacks Nico ~ Hatchet (Axe)}
0HPIXc6M0Eaxe
{11152 -- Block -- 0.0 damage
(Axe)}axe

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Ash to ash, dust to dust
Everything in God above
Shed a tear, shed your blood

There's a terribleness that comes with being a wolf. 

Nico has always known that his identification with the creatures was as much something to be ashamed of as it was something to be proud of, that there is a reason people fear creatures like him as much as they do. He knows that when wolves howl, it's a warning and a death sentence wrapped up in one startling sound, that when a lone wolf song rings through the night, there's a terrible melancholy that can only be described as the feeling one gets in the dead of a winter night. He knows that wolf songs aren't built for redemption, aren't the sounds one hears when the world is ending and they are destined for better things. A wolf in the infinite wood, howling to the moon—there's more of a death sentence in that than if Nico's pitchfork were pressed against Raven's throat.

When his blade slices across her leg once again, Nico can feel that her end is near, can feel the raven falling to the wolf, and he's right in so many ways that this fight feels better than it did to kill Jayne. He'd asked the question of Raven, not realizing that the truth was he needed to ask it of himself. At the time, killing Jayne had felt murky, like he was lost in a fog of grief and anger and wasn't even thinking about what he was doing. It was instinct to go for the killing blow without giving her any real warning or time to prepare. You have to kill them, Francis had said that last day, Death hiding among the flowers ready to take him away. Or, at least, that's what Nico thinks that he said, but he can't remember now if those were his exact words. Already, the boy from Five is fading from his memory. He grasps at the color of Francis's hair like straw in the wind, trying to remember the exact curve of the skin around his eyes every time that he smiled. Nico hadn't been thinking about killing Jayne, not in any real or conscious way, but he had plunged his pitchfork into her skull all the same. His unconscious had hungered for death, and an executioner he had become.

Now, asking the question of Raven, he knows.

That wasn't what Francis had meant.

Rein your anger in. 

He wanted Nico to be good to be a hero, to defend himself against those who would kill him in battle. But Nico had taken Francis's words and turned them rotten, like a gutted fish left out to decay in the sun, or the spoiled fruit Nico had once found in a trash bin outside of the bakery. The smell of it had made Nico's blood turn into acid, had made his chest swell in rage and anger so hot he thought he was going to turn into ash.

He wonders if he's always been like this, if he's always been someone that knew how far he needed to go and then went beyond it, if he was someone that would always go as far as there was to possibly go. When the Peacekeeper who killed his father had been transferred to the Capitol, Nico could have let go of his anger and his plan for revenge, could have given it up and just learned how to be a boy not destined for death.

But he hadn't.

He had redirected his anger instead of learning how to live without it, had taken it by it's red horns and pointed it at the Capitol itself, at the people who had taken everything from him and awarded a murderer with a pay raise and a relocation to the best city in Panem. He had stood in the face of impending peace and happiness and chosen for himself misery and bitterness, had allowed his mother's dogma to poison him so thoroughly that he was blind to any life but one of pain and death.

If he could not be better, he would be worse.

Fuck you, Nico Thorne.

“Nope, my heart is still there," she says, pressing her palm against her chest, and Nico almost wants to roll his eyes. He wants to say something cruel in response to her, unclear if she's making a bad joke or if she's truly oblivious to the metaphor, if she's so caught up in the literal that she doesn't understand what it is to have a beating heart and not feel its warmth. If he could not be better, he would be worse. “But you’re right, this game has killed who I used to be… When my voice raised to volunteer, I was volunteering to join Dove wherever she is now. This place though? This place has given me a heart - a heart to care about others, to protect those ones I care about, and to return home to the other ones I care about. I don’t think it’s heartless to want to live, I think it makes us human.”

She swings before he can reply, but this time he is not making any witty comebacks, not thinking about metaphors and trying to put promises past into words without actually putting them into words. This time he is ready for her, and he catches her weapon before it can touch any part of his.

"Maybe wanting to live makes us human," he says in response, his eyes meeting her own earnest ones. He swings before he finishes his thought, driving his pitchfork towards her with all the force that he can.

"But volunteering makes us villains." 

You cannot give enough
Finally become second to none
In a kingdom of one

[ nico attacks raven, pitchfork (spear) ]

RRY1bOIyraspear

[ 3101 -- Block -- 0.0 damage (Spear) ]

spear