come after dawn restores // vvitches vs murder we wrote

[✨ zozo.]

After she falls, and rises, and dusts off the shame and her injuries and then falls into sleep once more, Slate wakes to the orange and red dawn of the forest. Penelope and Frowny and Seven still slumber, but the tiny girl was half-hoping to find corpses instead of sleeping teenagers. Not that she'd dare say that out loud, it just made her job easier in the long run.

With two axes held tightly in small hands she rises, wounds aching a little less but still there. Weakness. It pisses her off, anger burning in her center - one was only as strong as their weakest parts and Slate's chest weeps with pain if she moved too quickly, breathed too harshly, she can't even fucking breathe without being reminded that she's not as strong as she thought she was.

"Wanna see how much a career can hurt you, Slate?"

"Fuck that kid" Slate seethes once the rest of them have stirred awake, muttering to herself under her breath. "I'll kill him, I will, I'll gut him like a pig, I will, I will." Bag already packed and slug over her shoulders, two axes at her sides, rage builds as her chest wound heals.

Half out of boredom, half out of the need to avenge herself, she takes aim at one of the trees stood a few metres from her and imagines it the boy from Four. Narrowing her eyes, her arm stretched back and flung forward and the axe flew towards the tree and hit it with a sad thud from the handle, dropping to the floor in defeat.

"Awh fuck!!!" Slate swore, a hand pressed against her collarbone to ease the temperamental throbbing her actions had caused. Dragging her feet along the leaf-strewn ground, head held low from shame, she crouches down to pick up the fallen axe and hears-

"Guys!"

Voices, surely - just not from behind her.

Grinning with glee, she scampers back to her allies with no time for bullshit good mornings. "They're coming," she bounces, bloodthirsty and ready to fight. "People are coming!"

Pointing up towards the trees, Slate shoves her axes into her bag and scurries toward the base of the one she had nearly maimed only seconds ago. "Let's surprise 'em," she giggles, almost shaking with determination. "We jump down, try and sever a head or two in the process, hahahahaha!! Come on!"

So she climbs, temporary shot-caller, into the sky of red and orange. And when the enemy stumbles into what was their camp she pounces with a shriek like an animal, throwing everything she has into the swing of her axe on the downward fall.

"HYAAAAAA!!!!!"

slate attacks torren with an axe
DzS2mjEqyGaxe
shallow cut on left thigh 3.5

axe

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

I envy the bird.

It flies above us as we walk — blue wings against a grey sky. My jealousy is not because it is free, and not because it is beautiful; the connection I feel is a thing that I cannot explain. This is the story of Narcissus at the edge of the lake. I spread my arms wide, twirling through the woods to the rhythm of a hidden song.

I have no reason
to desire power
that I already possess.

My dress sweeps across the forest floor, a breeze of leaves around my feet. And my wounds are still aching — but they're healing, too. I think of nothing else, a carefree smile on my lips and hunger in my eyes. "You're all so dull." The words are playful, my fingertips on Vargen's cold cheek.

We are beasts stained in blood; we are monsters walking through the mist. But then I laugh, running my hands through my hair, and suddenly I'm just Penelope. Something reckless. I don't see the harm in seeking a little fun. You can find it anywhere. Even a war zone. I tiptoe around the bombs, coming to a stop.

"Pretty faces don't cut it."

I offer a sisterly wink to Slate, moving to stand beside Reggie. "We need to do better." I keep my voice high and bright, still performing even in the silence of morning. The arena is a stage under a different light. And I'll be damned if I'm not the star attraction. "Don't you agree, Blume? No more running. No more fear."

The bird comes back to my shoulder, nuzzling the curve of my neck. And then Slate hears something, manic laughter filling the space. "That's more like it." She points to the pines, to the kingdom that towers around us. She wants us to claim it as our own. I smile like I am intoxicated, lost in the thrill.

We climb together, but I move alone — higher and higher until the bird flies away to a distant branch. I break through the tree line when I hear her battle cry, when the wind whips through my hair and I close my eyes in exhilaration. And this is not because I want to kill; this is because I am a girl who will fit herself into any shape to survive.

I bend backwards and fall, twisting in the descent and catching gnarled limbs. I throw myself through the air, a routine I have mastered. An ambush does not have to be vicious — it can be graceful, it can be a girl landing on her feet and lifting her axe above her head. I spin the handle in my grasp, cherry red lips spread wide.

"Here to finish what we started?
I'd be delighted."

( penelope attacks torren ; axe )
2_jEgXItnjaxe
( Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage | +1 strength )

axe

[sidney]

It takes me far too long to find slumber, my thoughts racing well into the night, long after the sun sets and the stars—though I don’t think they’re real, not here—start to shine in the sky. My head throbs still, though my nose did finally stop bleeding long enough for me to hunt and gather supplies. Eyes wandering over to Slate, I wonder if it was a mistake to help her. She’s vicious. Deadly. I’ve seen it first hand, the madness lurking in those big brown eyes. If there’s any of them I’m afraid of, it’s the girl who sleeps soundly just a few feet away, axe still resting in her hand. But this is just one realization found during a night of many, entirely restless and filled with constant worry because the truth is I’m terrified.

I’m going to die here and there’s nothing I can do.

The morning comes and it feels dreadful. When I finally did fall to rest, I had just glanced at the incoming dawn and pleaded with it to slow, to please give me more time, but it seems I am in no place to ask for such a kindness. So my eyes remain heavy as I rise, probably a bit bloodshot with stress and insomnia, but I try to shrug it off as best I can while I pack up what little things I’ve found to call my own here. Careful of the words I say to them now, I’m silent as we go to depart. Somewhat stoic after I catch the severity of Penelope’s wounds and her ability to brush them off, like nothing had ever happened. Like I hadn’t panicked, foolishly letting her take the blows I should have taken myself yesterday.

I’m a coward and she’s a warrior.

We need to do better.

I know, the thought comes and it feels worse than the broken nose. She’s right and I hate it, but I’d rather admit it than face the regret resting like a lead ball in my gut when my eyes look over to meet hers. “Yes,” I offer, ready to echo her sentiment without question, “no more fear.” It feels like a lie as soon as I say it, like something I can’t promise, but I at least have to try. A plan forms as the bird flocks to Penelope’s shoulder. Slate scampers up into the trees and I’m almost impressed at the ease with which she does so, her plan of stealth and surprise a damn good one. But when I look up to where she sits it feels like a mountain I’m expected to climb just as easily and my throat goes dry. I’m no acrobat like the next to follow, the girl from five taking no time at all to find the perfect perch.

“Well, I guess we’re supposed to follow, yeah?” I whisper harshly over my shoulder to Vargen, then turn back to find a fairly low branch to set up. It takes me two tries to hoist my large frame in the air, but I get into position, hoping to catch my breath before they arrive below us. I need to be quiet and I can’t be gasping for air when the—

Hyaaaaa!

It would seem I worried for nothing though because Slate swings with a loud shriek and Penelope meets her prey with a witty line.

I’ll never be quite as boisterous though, nor quite as eloquent, so I just wait for my moment. For when the one I want makes his way just below us. And then I pounce. I drop down gracelessly with a loud thud, taking the distraction by the girls to my advantage before coming face to face with our intended targets. I point to the boy from four with the hand I hold my axe in and look him straight in the eye.

I lunge forward and swing without a second thought, without remorse, without fear.

reggie attacks cole with axe

hK2zgj48vraxe

[ 11173 -- Severed Right Leg at Hip -- 10.0 damage ]

1-200

[esther kim d3 {lance}]

Day turned to night. An eerie, misty light was replaced by the shroud of darkness. And not one face shown in the sky to mark that you were any closer to home.

Against all odds, each and every one of you had lived. Everyone from Vargen to Ubbe Hammerfell to the little girl from Twelve still drew breath even as you did. And you're not sure if you felt any better or worse about it than you would have had the alternative been true.

But regardless, you volunteered for first watch. You had a distinct feeling that sleep would be some hours off even within the confines of the building, so you might as well make yourself useful.

And so there you sat, only half paying attention to the world around you. Different topics flitted through your mind as fast as thought could allow. The chaos of the bloodbath. The snapping of bone, twice over. The red smile carved into the girl from Three's forehead. The literal back stab into the girl from Five. The wealth. Mackenzie and sponsorship. Your allies. The bloodbath. The snap. The smile. The stab. The wealth. Mackenzie. Allies. Bloodbath. Bone. Smile. Stab. Wealth. Mac. Allies. Bloodbath bone smile stab wealth mac allies bloodbathbonesmilestabwealthmacallies-

"I can hear you thinking too hard."

Turns out you're not the only one struck with a bout of insomnia. And yet you don't gift Cole the satisfaction of a gaze, instead looking out into the night as shadows and silvers mix together in a haunting moonlight. "Yeah, and?" comes the response, as you focus on a particularly bright star.

Or at least, the Capitol's best impression of one.

"Overthinking is what'll get you killed," says the boy as he settles in to your right. "So spill it, Seven."

Seven, as if you were just a number and not a girl who had teamed up with him to ensure mutual survival. This did earn a glance, one filled with as much annoyance as your tired psyche would allow.

You don't speak until your gaze is once again facing forward, fixated on the stars. "You know, I didn't volunteer for this like you did." Simple, factual, matter of fact, and painfully obvious if memory from watching each district's Reapings still shone bright. "I didn't - I don't - have everything figured out like you Careers do."

Two can play the generalization game, after all.

A breath you did not know you were holding escapes your lungs. "So you know, it's still sinking in that I nearly killed a girl today." Nearly killed two. "Or you know, that I could die at any moment just because I was that one unlucky name pulled from a bowl."

Cole audibly shrugs, even as you refrain the urge to look at him a second time. "Figured out?"

And goddammit, you can tell that he's smirking out of the corner of your eye.

"I may have volunteered, but it's not for the reasons you think. Us careers are just as similar to you, too." If you had a dollar for every time you'd seen that justification on the television... "Yeah, we may be a bit more unorthodox than most people, but we're also humans. Humans with thoughts, emotions, and feelings. I almost killed a girl today too."

"Fact remains you chose to be here, Hailsham," you snap, though there's no bite behind the bark. "I didn't."

There's a pause, and you hear - feel - the boy from Four move closer to you. "I volunteered for my twin. If I didn't, we'd have died in a few years."

It's a story you've heard in bits and pieces before, but never full on. "I've noticed you seemed to have an ulterior motive in being here," you admit, turning towards him again with an eyebrow raised. "Not quite sure how death in here is any different than death out there though, but hey, not my place to judge."

"I do," responds the other, and you can hear as he suppresses a yawn. "Guess you could say I escaped from other things, better to choose how I die than not get the choice."

For a moment, you soften, matching your gaze with his. Of course, that only gifts you a front row seat to another devilish smirk. "Though, I don't plan on dying, so don't get your hopes up, Seven."

That little-

But despite yourself, you grin as well. "Hey, I put your back on the mat fair and square once already, Four," you shoot back, putting extra emphasis on the number. "I can do it again."

But the other boy is already retreating into the house. And despite yourself, you feel better. A little bit, anyway.

---

"Wake up you lazy pigs! It is time to cause some havoc around here."

Sunlight streams in your eyes as Reyes of all people sounds the alarm. "Who are you calling a pig, pig?" you shoot back, before groaning and rolling over onto your back.

But you only protest for a moment, because you know it is imperative to keep on moving. As the boy from Eight calls back to one of the Careers regarding something about makeup, you shoulder your bag, heft your axe, and prepare for your first full day in the arena.

One down, only a million more to go.

Truth be told, you're not upset to leave the town in your dust. Something about it unnerved you anyway, to say the least.

So you walk, mostly in silence. At least for your part. And eventually, old buildings are replaced by surroundings both more familiar and more favorable for you - a good old fashioned forest. And for the first time, you relax, as the deciduous remind you of home.

And then you tense, for you've watched too many Games to know that when things are too good to be true-

"HYAAAAAA!!!!!"

-they probably are.

You spin, to find that a trap has been sprung. An all too familiar thorn in Slate is revealed to be the originator of the cry - because of course, who else would it be? - and following her are the girl from Five and the boy from Twelve and-

Well, shit.

"Interesting company you're keeping, Vargen!" you call as your cornucopia basket thing is tossed to the side, your axe brandished in front of you. You watch as the girls go towards Torren, the boys towards Cole - and what better way but surprise to remove chief elements of your competition?

You get it. You really do. And you have half a mind to take advantage of the distraction, the lack of interest in you, leave the three boys you'd teamed up with to their fates to ensure you lived another day.

But running from your problems will get you nowhere. Of that, you have only the briefest flash of doubt before certainty irons it out.

So you grip your axe tighter, willing every last drop of Career blood in your veins to make themselves useful. And you'll show these attackers what you've got.

You turn towards one in particular. And as you swing towards the girl from Five, you can only think-

Doesn't she know better than to turn her back on me?

sapphire attacks penelope; axe

Fk3A0BV2vraxe

11111 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage

axe

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

Is it better to choose how one dies, or to let the world choose?

The evening comes with the silence of his own brain, telling him what more he could do and what more he could lose. Liam in Four would be sleeping, with head held heavy in that room where he would have been. Fingers touch at his own wounds, ignoring the burst of pain from the bruises on his skin. Nothing more than just easy wounds he's had before coming here, days spent getting smacked with wooden weapons and thrown fists. The leather journal of home feels cool against his side as he stands to ignore the fleeting feeling of sleep that he knew wasn't coming. Eyes focused on the unstable walls and creaky floorboards.

Every single tribute was still alive, as he stares into an empty sky to see no one. No one is dead and despite that, he's kind of glad. Hailsham expected greatness from their students. All of the academy were high end careers who've been trained since birth to kill, to survive, and to thrive. Bell Hailsham was still alive and part of him hoped she'd live for as long as humanly possible. Having someone who understood what he was doing would help in this place. A sigh from his throat as he finally pushes forward to see Sapphire.

The way she's sitting makes him watch for a little longer, curious on if he should even approach. The memory of being slammed onto a mat fresh in his mind, but he was caught off guard, he could handle himself. The way she's sitting and the way he can just tell that her head is moving a mile a minute makes him unsteady. He's on edge just from the way she's thinking about everything all at once.

If overthinking could kill, Sapphire would be no more.

"I can hear you thinking too hard."

The words slip from his tongue as he stares into the emptiness of night. A silent sound of the night shifting between them. Sapphire was no like him, but she held a lot more skills than any of them really knew. He may be a career, but she was everything he wanted to be long ago. Careers were nothing more than something unobtainable to him in Four. Cole used to be smaller than all of them and get thrown around as a pathetic sparring partner, but now he's become better, even surprising himself. While others used strength in career training in four, he had the mind to be able to survive. At least, he thinks he does.

"Yeah, and?"

She replies with the chill of the night.

"Overthinking is what'll get you killed," His voice says as he sits down next to her, shuffling his own feet and feeling the leather of his journal touch his clothed skin. "So spill it, Seven."

Annoyance fills her face and he knew exactly why. Numbers and names did not mean the same thing to others, but right now, he's exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. Eyes towards the stars, she watches and waits for the right response. Cole's hands begin to feel number by the chill of the air. It's only been a few seconds, but he's taking in what it's like to feel like he's got some friends, even if he knows they really aren't. He's spent years underneath a tree, wondering when his life will end and how he'll stop it, but now, he's the same, but different.

A good different.

"You know, I didn't volunteer for this like you did." The matter of fact tone sending chills through his body. "I didn't - I don't - have everything figured out like you Careers do." Careers. Not the same as everyone else. A nuisance to many of the other tributes in the games. A silence fills him because he knew what she was doing. They both were playing this game of generalization. The silence passes with her voice.

"So you know, it's still sinking in that I nearly killed a girl today." Killing was difficult. He knew this. He's felt this. He's human just like her. That's what he thinks everyone forgets. He's a human being with thoughts, emotions, feelings, beliefs, and desires. Cole's never been perfect, but he's tried his best for years. "Or you know, that I could die at any moment just because I was that one unlucky name pulled from a bowl." The words sink in. The haunting feeling of Enzo Krearns and the tears he clearly saw from a boy who was losing whatever it was Enzo Krearns would have lost.

Unlucky ones.

He was one of them.

Unlucky to have been taken to Hailsham Academy.

An academy where they'd cut him open and give his kidneys to some other rich fucker.

A heavy shrugs falls from his shoulders. His voice leaves his lips with a smirk as he relaxes into the truth of his own unluckiness, knowing what fate would have determined for him. Fire in his blood as he watches her with an easy eye.

"Figured out?"

Unlucky Cole.

"I may have volunteered, but it's not for the reasons you think. Us careers are just as similar to you, too."

Similar in ways that none of them truly knew.

"Yeah, we may be a bit more unorthodox than most people, but we're also humans. Humans with thoughts, emotions, and feelings. I almost killed a girl today too."

Her voice breaks his own thoughts of being similar to Sapphire. A whisper of doubt in his own ear from the anxiety he keeps under wraps, the nervousness that bites at the edge of his stomach, that he forces to swallow down and ignore as he knew what he got himself into. He knew the risks first hand of what could lead to death. He lived his life knowing he was going to die before he could truly explore the world and experience life for real.

"Fact remains you chose to be here, Hailsham,"

Did he?

Hailsham academy choose this, not him.

"I didn't."

I didn't choose to die. I choose to live.

Silence fills his chest as he thinks of Liam and all of the sacrifices he made. The card castle crashing to the ground as the stability they once had falls in his own grasp. His own hand containing the justice card that had kept it up and made them survive. Escape was more important to him than his brother. The anxiety eats away at his brain, telling him this. Telling him that he's not worth surviving for because Cole should be dead. He should die like he's meant to, but he couldn't.

Hailsham needed him.

Alive.

Scooting closer to her, he lets the silence fill the void as he stares to the sky, where the stars glitter above, most likely fake from the way he doesn't recognize most of them. His voice escapes from his lips as the walls are torn down and he's more serious than before. "I volunteered for my twin. If I didn't, we'd have died in a few years." She speaks with a calm demeanor that's almost frightening.

"I've noticed you seemed to have an ulterior motive in being here," An eyebrow raised at him. "Not quite sure how death in here is any different than death out there though, but hey, not my place to judge."

Death.

The ultimate end.

He can't afraid to meet death.

There's too much in the world still left to do.

"I do," The yawn fills his chest as exhaustion now finally begins to catch up to him. "Guess you could say I escaped from other things, better to choose how I die than not get the choice." He reaches her gaze, staring for a moment before his own lips rise in a smirk. The walls come back up as he let her see past the career of himself. Past the strength and demeanor he puts up to hide the fact that he's actually a ball of anxiety and cares too much about people in general.

"Though, I don't plan on dying, so don't get your hopes up, Seven."

Her face breaks into a grin. Deep down, he feels like his job here is done. Making Sapphire smile made the world brighter, even during the night time, her smile lights up the room. Getting up slowly, he yawns once more as the evening grows darker and darker. The noises of the night settling in as he waits for a moment.

"Hey, I put your back on the mat fair and square once already, Four," A chuckle as he waves a hand to her in defiance. "I can do it again."

After Bloodbath, he didn't doubt it.

Once past the door, he can see the little mutt-like creature, who seems to be friendly. Walking up next to him as he moves over to his bag and places his head lightly against a wall. The creature stares at him for awhile before Cole almost dares to pull his spear out against the small thing, but exhaustion beats him as he lets the creature closer. The silence of it moving next to him as he sighs and ignores the worry in his chest. If this creature was going to kill him, it would have already.

Night fades as his eyelids droop close, the sound of him and the mutt sleeping.

Morning would come and he needed his sleep, no point in fretting over a sort of cute creature.

---

"Wake up you lazy pigs! It is time to cause some havoc around here."

Reyes is the one who wakes them all up as he groans, rubbing at his eyes and feeling the warmth of the little creature that he can now tell is a Kodama from the mutt lessons. A quick flashback of sitting in class learning about one of the friendliest mutts in the arena is all it takes for Cole to shrug and watch it for a moment.

"Morning, dick."

Patting the little creature's head, he sits up rubbing at his eyes again.

"We'll cause havoc soon, I'm sure of it after bloodbath yesterday. Gamemakers will be up our ass about the fact no one died."

Preparing to leave doesn't take long as he shoves his stuff into his pack, writing down a few things in his personal journal, staring at the black one for a second before moving past it and finally standing, ready to go. Ignoring the way his muscles hurt and the bruises were now purple along his skin. An ache throughout his body from the exhaustion, but he's a career and knew what he was doing. Death wasn't an option here.

Leaving the town is nice, never feeling comfortable in those hardwood floors of the rotting buildings, swearing he heard Reyes fall through one of the floors. The kodama is following him, but he doesn't dare speak of it's presence. The alliance didn't need to worry about a friendly mutt like the kodama, as long as it didn't give away their location, but the creature was way too small to really give away anything.

As the town disappears, the forest comes with a faces that are gruesome in their own ways. Black liquid almost deadly to even stare at as he winces at the idea of something other than sap being in these trees. A shiver down his spine as he hears the sounds of the one person he didn't want to hear, especially after bloodbath.

"HYAAAAAA!!!!!"

A trap, clearly meant for tributes. Slate Rothul is a maniac as she cuts into Torren's flesh, out of surprise. His spear already in his hands as he swivels forward to push himself towards the surprise attack, but then the girl from five, Penelope appears from somewhere too. Her voice echoes across his own ears as if the snark of the words sets him on fire.

"Here to finish what we started? I'd be delighted."

The axe cuts Torren's arm badly and Cole knew from the way the blood poured that it would hurt later too. Adrenaline begins to pump in his blood as he almost speaks and shoves himself forward. The thought of what to do pulling at the edge of his mind as he looks to Torren and feels Sapphire and Reyes somewhere near him. Their presence is calming in this situation, but he's freaking out on the inside as he holds his spear out, carefully, but before he can he hears another person behind him.

I'll tear them apart limb from limb if I have to.

The axe cuts through smoothly as he can feel the blood pour from the wound as something falls with a thud. The air feels heavy as a burst of nerves flow through his body and he's falling slightly into a tree as he grits his teeth and focuses on the battle, but the strike is overwhelming as he looks up to see Reggie Blume, who's nose must be hurting from the day before. A scream almost dares to break from his lips, but he bites down into lip letting the blood pool in his mouth as steadies himself on the tree.

"Fuck. Break someone's nose and they decide my leg is fucking theirs."

Cole says to no one in particular, but himself.

"Bullshit."

Sapphire is the first to react after his leg falls to the dirt. Cutting into Penelope with a small hit, unlike what they saw the other day. Grunting from the pain, Cole pushes himself forward with the spear covered in Slate's dried blood. Crimson falling from the wound that Twelve gave him. Death wasn't an option. Living was the only way out. Liam fucking needed him. He couldn't give up because of a lost leg.

His voice escapes to Blume.

"You'll pay for that leg another time, I've got unfinished business with a certain shoe thrower."

Pushing forward, in front of Torren, he hobbles with all of his strength, trying to use the trees to his advantage. Pushing off of them and leaning his weight into his only other leg. A cannon fires and he glances around to make sure it's none of his allies or his opponents. Death wasn't an option for him. Cole Hailsham couldn't die. Not here. Not now.

"Slate. I think you need another lesson on how a career can hurt you."

A smirk on his lips as he looks to Vargen for a second speaking out to him.

"I followed you to the woods, where's my kiss?"

Focusing back on Slate, Cole pushes forward with all the might he has, the adrenaline keeping him from fainting at the loss of blood and limb. They'll have to deal with it later. Death wasn't an option. He was going to tear them up limb by limb. No one gets a leg up on him. Liam's gotta be watching. He's gotta be traumatized by his fucking leg laying in the dirt. A silence fills him before the spear glints with a silver edge as he pushes forward.

Death wasn't an option.

It was never an option.

"Here's your lesson, Slate!"

(Cole Hailsham attacks Slate Rothul with Spear)
mzmdHMYRdlspear
(Shallow Cut on Stomach 4.0)

spear

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

i've been born for sometime
and i got death on my mind
come on, follow me
away from the nightlife

        The forest was quiet as
        the beasts slumbered—
        no howls, and no teeth.

But, I was awake and wild-eyed, perched on the branch of a tree, with moonlight laced to my silver hair.

From the vantage point, I watched the grooves and the canopies whisper to each other in tongues of old, trading secrets and tales with one another. I eavesdropped on their little talks, eager to understand them. As a stray wind twisted through the trees, every bough trembled as though life had been breathed into the forest and it had begun to uproot itself finally, began to rebel.

        a forest, alive.
        a forest, sentient.
        a forest, vengeful.

Closing my eyes, I let my thoughts drift. I envisaged my body unmade, dissolved to become one with the roots that writhed and snaked beneath us, one with the forest that breathed and breathed around me in tender gasps. The yellow of the autumnal leaves had been seared in my eyes now—and even when they were closed, I could see the color, so auburn-bright.

Slowly, in the bowels of my head, my eyes became the ajar mouths of hyacinths and petunias. These hands knotted together and twisted into the gnarled branches of the trees, this blood vehement underneath my skin darkening to a color that mirrored the sap these trees bled. My heart became a thick-barked thing; I let myself become the roots—my age became countable in rings.

Then, I uprooted myself. Then, I moved: my feet moss-cladded, brooks down my spine.

Even though it was all a fantasy, I felt an exhilarating rush in my chest after my eyes reopened and adjusted to the dark. Freedom pulsated wildly in my throat; it never ebbed away. The heartbeat that thrummed beneath my jutted ribs, echoed that of the forest’s. And in my dreams, I was the forest, with movement and a hunger so old, a hunger so pent-up I wanted to devour everything to bone. I was insatiable, belly depthless, teeth the length of spears, bristling with ancient magic. Leaves whirled; branches trembled; trees rustled.

Dawn came with a softness that was the calm before a storm, tender and sweet winds before tempestuous gusts. I inhaled the scent of sun-dried wheat and sugarcanes that hung upon the air so heavily. If it weren’t for those that lurked and stalked these grounds, this place would be a treasure, I mused. Without the darkness to make them grotesque and eerie, the trees around them were mere gnarled timber. Yet, the faces upon he trees’ barks were haunting still, with or without darkness, their features aghast as though they had sighted something so heinous their terror blossomed into faces. I glimpsed at one before averting my gaze to my warriors.

Penelope Marcet was a spring afternoon, her mouth a bright flower, but her eyes gleamed with a winter’s cruelty. Slate was a creature of anger—wild fury that could effortlessly transfigure to ruthless power at any given moment. Reggie’s resigned face had become determined once more, the woes of the day before nowhere to be found. I felt pride unfurl in my chest as I stared at their backs, all sinew and rage.

We were predators, bright with the shine of an invisible hunter’s moon; no prey could escape our arrows.

“Guys!” Slate cried, and my hand, brisk with instincts, landed on the weapons I’d garnered. “They're coming.” Blood raced in my ear, and I cannot rein back in the smirk that bloomed across my mouth, red as an open wound. “Ambush them, yes,” I nodded to Slate’s suggestion before letting my body move on its own to crawl up the brown-colored pillars. For a moment, we were as quiet as a held breath, as the forest itself. Then, Slate leapt out, every muscle in her body laden with animosity and old rage that had just revived itself new and raw. Her axe cut a red line across the thigh of the boy from One; my grin broadened. I caught glimpses of Cole and Sapphire but before my axe could be thrown, Reggie was already a rampant beast.

We were animals, all hunger and all teeth; all the lands we prowled on, we left blood-stained.

As they battled, I watched, my dark cloak aflutter like the plumes of a vulture that waited for rot, face hooded. The blood that pooled at Cole’s feet glistened, a red mirror of some sorts, and I grinned-- ivories a silver line of knives, radiant even through the shadows the hood cast upon my features. “Cole,” I regarded him, “oh, how I prefer you drenched in red than naked.” There was a scream in Cole’s throat; I wanted to make it escape him.

In the periphery of my sight, I caught the gleam of Sapphire’s axe—rusted and sharp—but before a warning could be cried out, it had already lunged and slashed at Penelope’s neck. Penelope Marcet bled rubies, and bled petunias. “Attacking someone from behind, Sapphire,” I taunted her wryly, “how noble of you.”

I remembered then, a saying in the Forrester stories and hymns mother would recite to my sister and I:

        to be divine, is to be unnatural; 

to be divine, is to be unnatural and thus, in that sense, monsters and gods were in the same, ichor-filled vein.

I rose onto my two feet, each one set precariously on the rough branch of the tree, and instead of leaping down, I readied the axe in my hand, tautened the muscles, let the shine of my teeth be known.

We were monsters, harbingers of death and rot; see the flick of our tails and the gleam of our horns.

        “Here’s your sweet kiss, Cole.”

sleeping in nirvana
and i will long for the gutter
when i'm in your arms
i long for my freedom



lyrics: aurora — hunger

( Vargen attacks ❛ Cole Hailsham ❜ | Throwing Axe )

IZN4v|khVGthrowing axe

10198 -- Miss (Axe lost) -- 0 damage (Thrown Axe)

( Accuracy re-roll | Day 2 )

throwing axe

10161 -- Axe in Neck -- 9.5 damage (Thrown Axe) + 1.0 (Target Practice)

throwing axe·throwing axe

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

I do not make a fuss when the lower half of my body completely disappears through the floor of the of the abandoned house that we have made refuge in. Right now, I am not in the mood for all this bothering, I have survived so long without aid, I just drag myself from the newly created hole and lay flat besides it on the cold hard wood. Chatter floats around in the rooms where the others are, a flowing conversation that occasionally sends an invite my way but this moment of peace with myself is the first time I have been alone since crashing through the window of my uncle’s kitchen.

My brain can’t distract me from the injuries that each have their own strength of pulsating pain. My now newly splintered shins and the shattered wrist, how I am going to swing that sword I carry or pounce with the spear, I have no idea. A simple knife will not get me far around here and I have learnt today that a fist is just like throwing a sponge. Nights out on the streets has not toughened me up physically at all, it has just enlightened me with how shitty the world really is.

All I can do now is rest, my thoughts are not exactly complying with ideas as exhaustion is clearly setting in. It is time to drift off and face whatever shit is out there to add to the agony I already carry.

”Ughh” It takes a while for my body to catch up with my brain as I battle with my limbs to push me to my feet. Sleeping on a hard-wooden floor has added thirty years to my back as I bend over in an extra portion of pain as I finally stand up. ”A nice comfy blanket would be great if there is any dumbass out there wanting to sponsor me.” Although calling potential sponsors dumbass really is not a great plea. ”I am sorry…extra fucking dumb idiots out there…” Their aid is not needed anyway, my bag is clearly overflowing with everything I need and there is evidently so much to scavenge for around here.

It is easy to make use of so little resource; the Capitol are good at making sure of that.

I drag my sword down the stairs, it makes a loud thump as the point of the blade hits each step. Occasionally, I add to the thunder with my own feet, a loud enough alarm clock for all those that are still sleeping within these walls. "Wake up you lazy pigs, it is time to cause some havoc around here."

Without waiting for the others, I go straight out of the front door, the breeze hits every fibre of my skin and the air renews my mind for another day. Honestly, even in its state this town could easily be called home. I do not care for any threats that may be lurking in the other buildings as I turn towards my house. ”It is time to go, lets go. You can put your make up on later.”

With the heavy sword in my hand I march on, not caring to look back to see if the rest of the regiment is following but there is no point staying here. There are twenty doors to unlock (the other three I will have to deal with later) before I can get out of this arena.

”The forest looks an ominous, a nice setting for a little skirmish.”

Well damn, my prophecy quickly proves to be true as soon as we hit the floor of the forest. Out comes the crazy bitch from nine and her flock of oddities. Sapphire’s District partner, the peculiar I caught worshiping organs in the Capitol’s restaurant.

Weapons are quickly exchanged before I can even raise my own sword above my head. Twelve, the last man standing in the bloodbath works some magic an the axe on Cole…a whole fucking leg. An entire leg just gone with one swish. My so-called axe professional cannot even mirror the same attack. ”Hey Sapphire, don’t make me regret giving you that axe. Cut off some limbs!”

I have no quarrel with any of these ambushers, there is no easy target to draw this sword onto and no blade marks my skin like they have the career boys. My plan of having defensive shields is clearly working, odd how they have not gone for the clear weakling of this alliance. I just follow Sapphire’s lead; the five girl is the last one I kissed with a weapon and I may as well use her as a practice dummy with this new one.

”Hey girl, I thought you would have ran further away from us after yesterday’s drama.” I take the first swing with the sword, my aching back not complimenting my strength at all. ”We will keep chasing you…well maybe not Cole.”

reyes attacked penelope | sword

e5QQ5Uv236sword

[1036 -- Severed Right Hand at Wrist -- 9.0 damage + 1 blades]

sword

[Arrows]

There are quiet conversations that crawl across the walls of night. A slender slab of societal existence inside an inferno. You had them at home also, the various voices of those you welcomed into your home to beat back the delirium of darkness. Their names back then you did not know, but now they are ones of familiarity and inscribed with the insignia of the damned. While they whisper in the company of a waning lunar look-out, you exist alone momentary tethered to the outskirts. By day a boy of boisterous annoyance, and by night a silent shadow. When will the day come to let you shed the shades of nightfall?

Not soon enough.

A fitful fright replaces the assurance of slumber. Somewhere between the sugar plums and fairies you fall into an ancient abyss.

A sister's sobs and a brother's prayer,
a child of stone who is entirely too aware.

A casket falls and a casket creaks,
a little boy breaks with tears on his cheeks

Darkness shatters Innocence's light,
a tiny heart not fit for this fight

A family falls into familiar faces,
there is only this time and no other spaces.

Your eyes eradicate the images, the illusions of your previous skin. Sweat you cannot afford to bleed stings in the town's breath of ice. Was it your thoughts which conjured the cruelty or a touch of toxins from an unknown source? You are not certain as you cradle yourself, the position you've had to master without your Mom's hands. Why does it seem now after you've spoken against the folds of Fate that she is more present than before? Why is her memory restraining your freedom? You blame the town and its eerie silence.

You flee from the floor, from the halls of the house. Outside you sit upon a shallow step, the stars of the sky dancing softly with the snow. In fragments of the falling frozen fractals, you see Ridley's face. Your mind meanders to the night before, to the poems she promised and the favor she asked. To be nothing more than faraway figures, mere glances across an arching horizon. And all to keep one anothers' hands free from the other's blood. Yet in this moment, all you want is to break your vow. To find where she sleeps and awaken her with another stupid statement. You're grateful for the one's your with, but heavy in presence of her absence. She is your friend, and for that you agreed to this farewell. Your fingers fold into knots around the snow and a slow sigh shapes the air around you.

The golden glitter of morning streaks across the sky as you are still out sitting among the snow. From within the walls you fled from comes the sound of scraping steel and reckless shouting. Reyes, of course. You enter his scene of summoning by shoving open the door. Forcing away your thoughts of night, an unamused expression enlightens your face. A single eyebrow slants upward as a half-smirk half-frown slides onto your mouth.

"With a ruckus like that jackass you'll make us go from lazy pigs to slaughterhouse sausage in seconds. Also," You pause brief;ly as a full smirk emerges and you bring your sword up over your shoulder, "you better make time for make up later, you could use some. You look as though you slept on a floor or something."

While mutterings of mutual agreement add to your own phrases of annoyance, you pack up the remainder of your things. Soon the shapes of buildings blend into the same horizon you search for Ridley's silhouette upon. Along the way among your own feelings of what the dawning day will welcome, Cole confirms your thoughts. The GameMakers will most certainly be seeking death after a spotless bloodbath. The President must already have his venom brewing.

As trees transform your surroundings into forest, you find yourself far less comfortable here than back in the town of fading phantoms. Seeping sap of bubbling black burbles from the bark of the twisted trees contorted and maimed. Every emotion you have is enhanced onto an edge at such a sight. It feels as though the very forest itself could come creeping to life and bare witness to your extermination.

"Alright, I stand corrected Reyes. These trees are the ones who need the make up."

But it is in fact not the forest which befalls you and your humor. Instead, the shrill scream which stems from between the blank branches is that of the one of the girl from District Nine. Her face flickers with the same fire of fury you saw the day your feet sent her to the floor of the Training Center. Almost instinctively your eyes are rolling. Well her wish has been granted, there are no trainers to tear apart this fight. But as you brace your sword to reply to the scratch she slices into your skin, your body runs cold.

A canon christens the air, the cry of the first of the fallen.

Amid your distraction, pain pierces across your body. Another edge drives into your skin from a friend of Nine. Your eyebrows furrow as a hand folds around the running river of red on your thigh. An almost hiss like sound emerges from behind your clenched teeth. You can feel your internal fire beginning to brighten. They will not steal your freedom.

Suddenly, there's another sound. It makes your skin crawl even more than the canon. It's a sound you've memorized from watching fight after fight. It's the sound of flesh severing and bones bearing way to blood. Your eyes find Cole's leg, and your stomach nearly finds the forest floor. The only barrier bracing against the eruption is the anguish and the anger morphing the seas of your eyes.

"And I'd be delighted," you start mockingly towards the one who's axe made friend's with your thigh "to show you that you don't always get what you want."

You tighten your grip on your sword as you begin to piece together a plan, a path to the training techniques you've spent hours practicing. A plan that leads you to Cole's side with another remark at his expense.

"Oh and Cole, I don't know what you and your boyfriend here are into. But I get the feeling he's not good for you."

Cole flashes and your eyes spark. The length of your sword follows in the shadow of his spear.

"I also get the feeling we would both be a bit better off without this doofus around."

Torren Jaroux attacks Slate Rothul ; Sword
efYu87lnGUsword
{Deep Gash on Right Bicep -- 8.0 damage +1 Blades, +1 Rivalry}

sword

[✨ zozo.]

It happens quickly.

She's not used to chaotic kills, much preferring a stealthy prowl and one single flash of steel - but she can work with this.

Red bleeds from skin and into the trees as their battle becomes a part of the forest. Orange and brown and red, silver weapons and the blur of beige as arms swing and people cry out. Slate's axe slides cleanly from Torren's wound, misjudging her aim in her excitement she'd only cut his leg. It's the head she wanted, but that's fine. She has plenty of shots left in her.

"Slate.
I think you need another lesson on how a career can hurt you."

It's Four that attacks her first. Fuck sakes, she thinks, as she launches herself away from his spear with a primal battle cry. It's not quite enough force and her stomach stings in the aftermath, pain jolting her to the side and off balance as she moves. Autumnal leaves below her feet stir as she fumbles but she doesn't fall - not yet.

But Four does. Frowny throws the weight of his anger into his swing and off goes Four's leg, buckling underneath his waist. Slate screams with fright - and then glee - at the sight, laughter bubbling up to the surface of her delight. Vargen steps forward and hurls one of his axes through the air and it lands in Four's neck as he falls for good measure. Slate waits for a canon, giggling and howling, still stumbling through the forest like a wounded animal.

But her enemies are down, soon to be dead. Confidence builds and rises with every cavernous breath she takes, desperate to finish the job. Licking at her lips, short hair wild and frenzied around her head, Slate steadies her stance and twirls both axes in her hands.

"I never liked school anywa-" she begins, but the sound of her words warps into a violent scream before she can finish her sentence, "-aaAAAAAAAAAAAAH MOTHER FUCKER!!"

Copy-cat, Career boy tries to mirror Frowny's actions and he almost has her arm. Almost. Something is pulled out from her stronger arm, ripping nerves and muscle and scraping past bone and Slate crumples underneath the agony.

She swings blindly with her other hand. Hopeless. Desperate.

"Doofus!" she screams, feral and raging. "I'll rip you to pieces!!!"

slate attacks torren with an axe
2DkS2R|vtraxe
shallow cut 3.5

axe

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

My axe is stained —

I am, too.

With many sins, and many regrets, but all I can see is the blood. I don't allow myself to look into his eyes, to watch as his face twists with agony — I only turn back when the damage is done, when he's just a broken boy at my feet and not something I crushed with my own two hands.

The boys follow close behind, a graceful streak of lightning and a crash of thunder. I watch as Reggie charges forward, blade catching the morning sun and slicing through bone. The sound makes me pause, a knot in my stomach that I can't seem to untie. There's a leg bleeding out on the ground. Alone.

And then I feel the sting across my neck, pulling my body to the side and rotating on my heels. I stare at my attacker, the same girl from yesterday. My expression shifts into one of rage, red lips parting into a vicious smile. "Where's your sisterhood?" I laugh dryly, answering my own question.

"No, don't worry. You don't owe me anything." I circle her, glancing up at Vargen when he speaks. There is nothing noble about this game — he has no right to shame this tribute for her actions, and neither do I. So I step aside and remove my cape, leaving my back vulnerable. "Want an easier shot? Go on, give the audience a show."

Something primal in me wants to take this girl in my grasp and choke the life out of her — but I am not a woman fueled by bloodlust, by the slow fire of rage. I consider the situation, compare the smooth skin to the torn flesh. My target remains the same. I choose a quick death.

The fight continues as I close in on my target, but I block out the shouts of pain and the hateful words. Until he forces me to listen. "I thought you would have ran further away from us after yesterday's drama." And then his sword cuts through the air, and I raise my hand as if I have the strength to stop it.

My glove and my skin tear on impact, a rush of blood pouring down my arm and a low scream ripping its way out of my throat. My fist closes around the wound, as if that can make the bleeding stop, but it continues to flow through my fingers. Every movement is a touch of salt, every voice warped and distant.

It remains connected to my wrist just barely, a lifeline to my career that I cling to — but it has been rendered useless, my weapon discarded on the ground. I lower myself and take hold of it with my left hand, never turning my back on the boy from Eight. I can handle a cut, a lifetime of cosmetics and painkillers, but not this. Not my life.

And that's what being an acrobat is to me; it is the root of my being. My body tumbles forward without it, a graceless stumble, but I stay on my feet. I move through the woods, finding Slate and our target locked in battle once again. I look over my shoulder as I prepare my axe, glaring at the pair of tributes who attacked me.

"When this boy dies, know it's because of you.
I want you to watch."

My vengeance is without grace, just the same.

( penelope attacks torren ; axe )
9Jmb_FGqBYaxe
( Shallow Cut on Right Forearm -- 3.5 damage )

axe

[sidney]

I’ll rip you to pieces.

A voice rings out, loud and manic, but still—I like the sound of that. My hand shakes slightly, still jittery after the last harsh blow I’d landed. A whole leg. Removed. By me...? It feels unreal, like something I shouldn’t be capable of. I’ve chopped down plenty of trees, carved my way through vines and brush, and sliced apart firewood almost every day of my short life, but I never could have imagined using an axe in this manner. In the way of severing limbs and bringing about such archaic violence. But with my anger bubbling to the surface, it has no choice but to flourish in an environment such as this, with wolves circling in and their teeth ready to draw blood.

Cutting through them is the only means of a way out now. So that's exactly what I'll do.

I shed my morals and swallow what little bit of conscience I might have possessed before I entered this place, and ready myself to go in for more. Break someone’s nose and they think your leg is theirs, he says, but turns away, and I watch in mild panic as the girls are surrounded. They strike quick and fast, take blood and Penelope nearly loses a hand, but Vargen is quicker. And Slate lands another good hit at the perfect moment. My newfound allies—they're all so resilient, steel-spined and viciously determined to come out alive no matter the cost. 

I must be, too.

I move forward and my eyes drift to the limb at my feet, blood pooling beneath it, soaking into the forest floor slowly. “It’s anyone’s now,” I call out cruelly back, paying no mind to it as I step forward and kick the knee with my boot. “What? Cutting it off wasn’t enough to get your attention? I’m hurt.” I taunt him and it feels obscene, rude and disrespectful in a way that’s foreign atop my normally reserved tongue, but I can't be bothered to hold back anymore. I write it off in this very moment as well-deserved as I think back to the boy’s fist meeting my face yesterday and the blinding pain to follow. Chalk it up to well-earned even more when he'd turned his back on me to go for Slate.

Closing the distance, I tighten the grip on the axe in my hand—something like bloodlust now scratching at the back of my throat and a little voice in my head whispering him or me, him or me, only one is coming out—and I swing.

reggie attacks cole / axe

COWZPdJPHkaxe

[ 11126 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage (axe) ]

accuracy re-roll / day two

axe

[ 11093 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage
(axe) | +2 strength/rivalry ]

axe·axe

[esther kim d3 {lance}]

It should be easy. Back turned, attention occupied, one quick swing for the neck-

-and you find it's anything but simple as the red line you leave right above where a cape is tied in place is anything but fatal.

Your arms are trembling, ever so slightly. Your breathing is quick, short, pupils dilated. The fight or flight instinct has activated, and yet while your mind has chosen one, your very body seems to rebel against each and every thought sent its way.

Kill the girl. Except you can't.

A quick glance reveals that the quiet woods have turned into chaos. It's an even fight on paper, four on four, but all the shit from the wealth doesn't mean shit when the element of surprise was against you. Torren's bleeding profusely from a leg, Cole's lost a damn leg, and as you watch Vargen almost lazily tosses an axe and opens a waterfall in the boy from Four's throat.

He turns towards you, and his expression is almost exactly as you would expect it - dry, cold, amused. Hypocrisies fall from his lips - Attacking someone from behind, Sapphire," - and then a sneer. "How noble of you."

For one reason or another, this rubs you the wrong way.

"Big talk from the group that lacked the nerve to fight us straight on, Vargen," you spit back, but where his sneer was laced with twisted mirth, there's only cold steel beneath yours. "'Sides, honor and that sorta crap doesn't mean shit here - all that's going to do is get yourself killed. And me?" Here you shrug. "I happen to like breathing."

You turn, leaving your district partner to his own twisted whims, for movement out of the corner of your eye demands your attention. The girl from Five turns to face you, cape fluttering from her shoulders, and it's chilling how similar her wicked smile is to Vargen's. "Where's your sisterhood?" the other laughs, and it's all you can manage to keep your knees steady.

Figures all the crazies would band together like a pack of mules.

"No, don't worry," the other decides after a moment. "You don't owe me anything."

"I'd say feeling's mutual," you manage through grit teeth. "Except then I'd be lying, because then I'd have to let you live."

Brave words from a scared girl, and you know deep down that Five believes them just as much as you do.

She grins, undoing her cape with her free hand, the blood curdling expression of twisted joy never leaving her face in the meantime. "Want an easier shot?" comes the taunt, laughing, seething. "Go on, give the audience a show."

You don't want to give a show. You want to get the fuck out of there right here and now.

Reyes saves you from making the decision immediately, for the next thing you know, his sword has flashed and there's a loose appendage flying through the air.

And for the first time in your life, you're glad it's not the first time you've seen it happen - whether on screen, when faceless after faceless tribute lost their limbs to freakish beasts and enemy steel, or in real life, as memories of a young boy in the woods screaming bloody murder in the aftermath of a freak accident. It's the only thing that keeps you steady, keeps you from retching what's left of the contents of your stomach out onto the grassy floor.

As it is, you're suddenly not feeling that well. And you might have stood there, arms and legs like jelly until Vargen decided to decapitate you, had it not been for your opponent.

"When this boy dies, know it's because of you." And there's no laughter in the other's eyes now. "I want you to watch."

Fire with fire, blood with steel. Something within clicks, and you find your tongue again.

"Fine, go ahead," you respond, setting your jaw for the second time in as many minutes. "Kill him. Kill him right in front me, right now. See if I give a damn."

You brandish your axe, ignoring the fact that the stainless silver gleam from the blade has been laced with a thin line of crimson.

"While you do that-"

You raise your arms, and swing.

"I'll be killing you."

Brave words from a scared girl - only this time, you almost believe them.

sapphire attacks penelope; axe

dBP3V2Lxu|axe

11189 -- Severed Left Hand at Wrist -- 9.0 damage

axe

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

I can't die now. Cole needs me. Hailsham needs me. I have to live.

The cut goes across Slate's stomach this time, with a flash of sliver and crimson bursts to life. Not enough to cause a true lesson of what careers, no what Hailshams could do, but he's doing the best that he can. A captain of the ship trying to keep himself from going down with it. Cole Hailsham had so much more to fight for still. Liam. Hailsham. Even Fucking Bell. There were so many reasons why he couldn't die here in this forest of trees mocking him with the black liquid and awful faces.

The burning of his missing leg resides through his body, a phantom pain of what once was going through his body as he almost goes to step with it, but instead falling into a tree, black substance coating his hands. The pain shakes him to his core as he feels like this would be what would happen in two years. Cut apart by people who don't understand the horrors he knows. Only benefiting from their hope in him dying, but it was gonna take more than just losing a leg to take him out of this.

The choice was simple.

Cole Hailsham had to pick himself over anyone else.

A flash of the justice card poking through his journal.

"Cole," A chill runs through his spine, knowing Vargen meant nothing to him. "oh, how I prefer you drenched in red than naked." Red. The color of his blood. The color of rage. The color of pain. The color he so desperately wished to cause on someone else other than himself. Blood was the sacrifice upon Vargen's hands. The way he made his body shivered in an escape from the truth he carries. Demons lingering in his own head about Hailsham and the organs of the departed kids. The way he whispered his own curse words to Vargen.

Red.

The color he was going to make spill upon his hands until it dried into a crimson crown.

"Here’s your sweet kiss, Cole."

Red.

The color comes from his neck as silver mixes and the wound cuts deep into it almost being threatening, but Cole's sure he knew what would kill and what wouldn't. The world is a bit more blurry. The friends he's gotta bury, the things he keeps up in his head. They flow out of his neck with the resistance of his own death gritting on his teeth. Blood, the human life spilling from his veins. A laugh flows from his lips as crimson falls from the wound. The sweetest kiss of his life right there. A wound that will surely scar when he lives through this.

"You call that a kiss, Vargen?"

The bloody smirk as red fills his lips and he spits to the forest floor, leaving behind a deep red bath for the mutts to play in later. Where the demons of his own head and the truth of his own pain reside, the gritting teeth of a new faith to himself and the belief that he would create change. Create a change in the world that will be heard for centuries in district four. Seven's ax was nothing more than a small silver piece in his suffering before he no longer suffers.

"You'll bleed red one day over your words."

A smirk as more red is spat forward.

"You'll bathe in the red of your own misery, slowly watching your kingdom crumble in front of you."

Red.

The color of pain.

"I'll be there to watch the flames of your own desire be your undoing."

Reyes is the next one to move, with the sound of a forest behind him. The chill of silver as it cuts deeply into Penelope. The red of his own lips feeling heavy with the smirk still attached to his face. The tree that he's secured himself onto leaving a nice resting spot for him. The chaos of weapons swinging and blood spilling filling his head as he stops to breath for a moment watching Reyes' sword leave a mess of a wound. Anger in Cole's veins as he tries to steady himself again for another attack.

Torren finally moves forward after getting smacked around by the girls' sneak attack on him. Fingers strain against his spear at the thought of seeing Torren getting cut apart. Despite being a career with an ego way too high, Torren was familiar in here. Hailsham would have made him stronger if he were in four, but right now, he trusted him to fight. Torren's voice escapes through the woods, ringing in his ears.

"Oh and Cole, I don't know what you and your boyfriend here are into. But I get the feeling he's not good for you"

A laugh comes from his throat as pain bursts with a white shock through his neck as he steadies himself.

"Not my boyfriend, dick."

A pause.

"He's not good for anyone."

Torren turns his attention to Slate as he swings with the sword that he carries. Silver glittering with the green of the forest as the black substance covers Cole's hand again. The blow looks painful as he listens to Torren's words that go along with the strike. A beauty of the way Torren moves makes Cole feel at ease, despite the blood loss of his own body. No one would take him away. He's got more life to give. A change to create. A revolution to begin in Hailsham Academy. They needed him still. He needed to go home and tear the academy apart for what they've done to the youth.

"I also get the feeling we would both be a bit better off without this doofus around."

The wound bleeds red as with the blood of a girl with so much energy and life, but such a desperate attempt at being strong. She's bleeding like him, but not as much as him. The red mixing with silver as he stares at her for a moment longer before she shouts out in pain. Anger in those eyes, desperation in those veins. Cole's seen this in himself long ago. The desperation to no longer be under the thumb of Hailsham Academy. A silence fills him as she speaks.

"I'll rip you to pieces!!!"

Penelope isn't worth your time.

Torren wasn't going to die based on those wounds she was causing.

Reggie Blume is the one to step forward towards him. The tree no longer being an escape from twelve who's out to cut more of his limbs off. The words on the tip of his tongue, with a lace of teasing to it. The venom doesn't sting as he stares at the guy who's nose looks off still from his own fist. The break feeling different in bloodbath, but costing his leg. He couldn't die here. He wouldn't die here. The red of blood on his lips spat forward in defiance.

"It’s anyone’s now," No one gets to have his leg, especially not some kid from Twelve. "What? Cutting it off wasn’t enough to get your attention? I’m hurt."

The ax comes down once more, cutting into his neck once more, leaving behind a weaker cut, but still present enough to make him wince slightly, gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to fall from the brunt of the attack. Blood would spill. The red of his body wouldn't matter. Cole Hailsham wasn't going to die here. Sapphire moves with a deadly precision that he almost misses from the glare at Reggie Blume. The cut causing Penelope more damage as he focuses back to Blume.

"Oh trust me, Twelve."

A hand pushes off the tree as he balances himself on his only leg.

"You've got my attention now."

A smirk on his lips as the red mixes with his outfit, leaving behind an awfully dark red. Eyes glaring at Twelve as he dares to swing for him. Except, Reggie Blume would suffer in different ways. That's the difference between them. There's other ways to make a human suffer besides outright tearing them apart. Cole's known this psychological horror for years. A moment held on the fight in front of him. The boys focusing him while their girls focused on Torren.

Red bathing the forest in a new fashion.

The color of pain coating the injured and the weapons of others.

Cole Hailsham couldn't die.

Not here.

Not now.

"You'll regret getting my attention, Blume."

More red spat on the ground as he holds the spear tight in his grasp.

"I'll make you suffer."

Eyes focused onto Slate as he speaks once more.

"There's more ways to make a human suffer than just hurting them."

More red will paint the forest.

The mutts will play in it.

Cole will thrive from it.

"You'll learn them soon enough."

Cole Hailsham couldn't die.

He wouldn't die.

The crown of blood would be his.

They'll all suffer for the red they've spilled from him.

I'll tear them limb from limb.

(Cole Hailsham attacks Slate Rothul with Spear)
bAHvTz1j0Dspear
(Shallow Cut on Right Forearm 3.5)

spear

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

i've been born for sometime
and i got death on my mind
come on, follow me
away from the nightlife

“Big talk from the group that lacked the nerve to fight us straight on, Vargen.” My name was, in her mouth, bitter and sour—fruit left out to bruise in the sun.

“Sides, honor and that sorta crap doesn't mean shit here - all that's going to do is get yourself killed. And me? I happen to like breathing.”

At that, I laughed and it wasn’t the sweetness of honey over oats, but jagged and bright: each note sharp-edged as though it was a blade that could be buried in between two ribs. There was no honey in my veins, only ichor that fumed and churned, that aureate blood of gods and monsters alike, thick with cruelty.

“Where, oh where, was the word honor spoken?”

My feet balanced my petite form upon the branch and I stared down at her, my shadow as dark and aspread as hawk’s, her form as small-boned and frail as a mouse’s from here. She had entered the belly of the beast, only to sulk when the walls had begun to eat her alive, eat her raw, flesh to bone. “We are not heroes, Sapphire,” I told her, “I told you--the predators rule a forest, not the prey.” As if in response to my words, the trees around us shivered; the leaves whispered, their autumn mouths together a choir of disembodied murmurs.

“But,” there was pride laced to my tone now, “aren’t my monsters beautiful?”

        They were.

The venus fly-trap was as lovely as it was monstrous, a beautiful thing with jaws, and so was the snake, its scales glistening as jewels would, its venom deadlier than arrow-heads. To be godlike or monstrous, was to be that impossible suture of beauty and savagery: the fair siren and her sharp-toothed song. They were the stories weary mothers terrified their headstrong children with.

        "You call that a kiss, Vargen?"

It was strange, to hear Cole Hailsham speak once more after the axe had opened a scarlet ravine in his head. I had heard that sharpness in his words before, under silver moonlight, in between silken sheet. Then, it was wrapped in silk but now the words laid bare, all its edges shown—threatening to cut my skin. “You'll bleed red one day over your words,” he smirked, “You'll bathe in the red of your own misery, slowly watching your kingdom crumble in front of you.” He was a monster then too, red as a young devil, that grin a crescent moon.

        I craved to kiss him and then slit his throat.

        “I do not need a kingdom to rule,
        not when I have the entire world.”

The branch underneath me trembled as I leapt from it, the dark cloak aflutter around me like the black wings of a vulture. Feet landed, gracefully, besides Penelope. Rot was coming; I could both smell it and taste it. Perhaps it was already here, I mused as my spine met Penelope’s shivering one, ears still tingling with the banshee scream that had crawled its way out of her. When my neck craned for my chin to perch on her shoulder-blade, my lips are hairsbreadths apart from her ear.

“Goddesses don’t speak in whispers,” I said, “they scream.”⁽¹⁾ The heel of my palm brushed away the stray hairs over her face, tucking each strand back to their rightful places. Then, I looked at Sapphire. “Show her what it means to cross a monstrous god.”

The forest shivered once more, and carried with its sounds, Cole’s words: “I'll make you suffer.”

From my cloak, I drew the other weapon that I’d garnered, a silver handsaw whose blade held onto the pale-gold light fiercely. “There's more ways to make a human suffer than just hurting them—you'll learn that soon enough.” I laughed again, and the leaves rustled from the sound. How dare he, to confuse my monsters, their clawed hands and fangs, with humans. Simply because something had a heart, did not make them less bestial and feral.

        We were beast incarnates, the four of us;
        sharp-horned and blood-mouthed.

“You would have made a beautiful sacrifice, Cole, if you weren’t so stubborn,” I sighed, dolefully. “A necklace of rowan berries around that pale throat of yours, roses instead of blood twined to your hair. I would have danced around your dead corpse to bid the rot away, sang hymns, and covered it with wildflowers.”

Then, the edges of my lips curled; it wasn’t a kind smile. I readied the blade in my grasp, eyes stuck on that red that rouged his neck and body. I wanted to paint myself into a field of winter roses with his blood.

        “Now, you can only be a rotten corpse.”

sleeping in nirvana
and i will long for the gutter
when i'm in your arms
i long for my freedom



lyrics: aurora — hunger



⁽¹⁾ - quote attributed to AHS.

( Vargen attacks ❛ Cole Hailsham ❜ | Handsaw )

E2gsZiUSyMsword

1007 -- Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage (Sword)

sword

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

I am a forgotten feature amongst these tiny battles. A background character with very little actions to follow other than to swing my sword. Taunts are lost amongst the madness and honestly I cannot complain. As long as their blades are hacking at those career boys and not me, this is a fair game to play in. I am hidden within the madness, like the trees that surround us I am dancing within their shadows.

One simple swing I nearly reenact the Twelve boy’s attack on Cole, a limb nearly swiped away from the girl but it looks as though every fibre of her wrist is hanging onto it. A grossly sight that is new to me, I am slowly being sensitised to gore. Lost limbs are just the start, death is not a beautiful to witness and its shadows will soon be casting itself over us all here.

But holy shit, these people are so dramatic. I know we are literally putting on a show for the Capitol but these tryhards must really have it scripted. The seven boy is rambling, minutes wasted on speech when this could all be over in seconds if they literally just used the weapons they hold. Cole is so clearly delivering his death speech.

I pull the hood from my head, a better view of the dramatics that are unfolding around me. Torren and Cole the forefront of battle injuries an ideal sight but this whole working as an alliance thing is not working in my head. It is not easy instructing others to follow a plan, not when they are facing the danger of death. To flee and be solo...but there will be defence like there is now. Hiding is no easy feat. Fucking Ripred, this shit just needs to end.

I take the swing once more at my primal target, following behind Sapphire’s achievement of swiping the girl’s other hand. ”All of you have had your chance for the dramatics, can we just sound the cannon and be outta here.”

reyes attacks penelope | sword

h08_dlXN29sword

1164 -- Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage

sword