The Way you Numbed All the Pain // [Day 3 MWW v. TLC]

[Stare]

“I’m taken. And besides, Ridley is much prettier than I am.”

"Debatable," Ridley countered. She was starting to have trouble keeping track of all the dialogues spinning around, making her feel like she was being orbited by a certain kind of chaos that training and even the streets had never prepared her for. Even in dirty fighting, when she'd been pulling knives in fistfights, there was some level of order.

But not in the Arena. Never in the Arena.

"Ridley." Torren's voice pulled her back into some semblance of sanity, an echo in the eye of the storm. "Tell me one of those poems. I want to hear one."

And then he hacked Milo's leg off.

"Milo." It came out as a half gasp, breathy and barely her own voice, as she lurched forward on his wounded side and ducked under his shoulder for the second (third?) time that day. "I - I've got you. Hold on."

I'm not exactly a people person. Does that make it easier or harder to kill them?

There was a buzzing in her ears that drowned out whatever it was that Sapphire was saying, and all Ridley could process was Milo's body heat, the overwhelming smell of the blood pouring out of him and into the water, the reflection of the lanterns on Torren's face. She stared at her district partner, wild and half desperate, not at all in any kind of position to start spouting poetry. "I can't," she told him, her voice strained, because she could see that he was dying, too. "I can't."

And she knew what she should have done then. She should have struck him down, released her wrath upon him. But even with Milo suddenly on the verge of death, she couldn't find the fury she needed. Not for Torren. Abstract ideas of nobility and bravery and skill swam through her mind. What would a Le Roux do? What would a Victor do?

What would Ridley do?

"I know you, and you know me, and we're fighting each other anyway. What else can I say?"

{D1F RIDLEY LE ROUX attacks D7F SAPPHIRE DECARIA; scythe (GLAIVE)}
gtFMZ1vzTJglaive
{shallow cut on stomach, 4.0}


table credit goes to the fabulous shrimp!

glaive

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

A failure and now I am hidden amongst the poetry. Two boys about to take their last breath and now the spotlight shines their way. It is a blessing that I am so easily able to slip away, to be so unnoticed amongst the chaos despite leaving my own mark but this boredom is tearing me apart. My tongue may as well be ripped from my throat and I should ride through the last of these games as a silent solo. Though these shields are proving useful, even Sapphire is beginning to collect some scars.

Soon we will be another short and it is going to be hard hiding behind one girl. Maybe the Rasoio is still marching on out there, the only ideal candidate to fill a hole in this alliance.

Slipping from my grip, I release the novelty weapon to the ground, it is nothing compared to the limb hacking sword that is attached to my back.

"Torren would be worth protecting. Is worth protecting."

It is happening again, the melodramatic dialogue to draw all the viewers in. Maybe it is Sapphire’s trick, sponsorship has been sparse in our little team despite winning the bloodbath. What use is a half-dead District One to a girl from Seven? Protecting a barricade that is stalling any chance of survival. I say the more careers who are taken out, the higher the chance a poor boy from District Eight will win.

”Hey Sapphire, why is he worth protecting?”

Pulling the sword from makeshift quiver made from bandages, I aim the pointy end to the boy from Eleven but Sapphire is quick on scooping up an attack on him. ”Worth protecting because every fight we have been in so far, he has taken the biggest hits?” Another question to let float in the air, it is like every word I speak is muted commentary. An optional subtitle for any idiot that wishes to hear my croaky loud voice. ”The perfect shield who may just survive another day. Like Eleven is to these two capably strong girls.”

I may as well slam down some facts as the depressing exchanges are carried out. Sapphire will for sure be creeping up behind me with that axe of hers now…well I will just have to become her new shield. I exhale, pivoting to the girl that has been taken jabs at poor Torren with her own sword. I flick up some dirt with my sword, rubbing it into the blade with my free hand. It mixes in with the blood of yesterday’s girl. Cannons have been sounding all the way through the fight, let’s get the one for our fight ignited.

”Two, please stop hitting my shield.”

Let’s end this before fake tears and warm hugs are shared. It is a fight to the death after all, not a soppy poetry reading…

”Boom.”

Reyes attacks Delaney with Sword

omy_fh2tlpsword

[1177 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage]

sword

[goat]

Milo’s leg came clean off. It fell to the ground with a sickly squelch, and Delaney screamed. She slammed her hand over her mouth immediately, as if she could take back the sound, but she couldn’t. She’d exposed her weakness, and now her enemies knew.

Ridley caught him, diving forward and hoisting him up on her shoulder. Blood was pouring out of him. She remembered crouching next to Charisma as the same amount of blood poured out of her. “You,” Delaney screamed, her chest heaving. “You, you, you—”

She couldn’t get the words out. They caught in her throat, choking her. As she faltered, the boy from Eight took his chance to strike at her. She dodged out of the way, barely, the blade of his sword just passing her face. She had no snappy remark for him, she just wiped the blood off her face and hoped her tears didn’t show.

“I’m gonna finish this,” she said. “This is bullshit. I’m done with it.”


[ delaney attacks 1m torren jarroux; sword ]
8KVg7FBPDHsword
1027 -- Deep Gash on Left Bicep -- 8.0 damage (+1 blades)

sword

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

Filler #1 Day 3:

"Ridley?" He calls after her weakly when she turns back. "It's over, we need to go?"

The pain sets in, nearly blinding him. "Ridley?" A little more urgently.

And then realizes he's calling for the wrong ally. "DELANEY!"

[MILO FLEES]



Table credit shrimp

[lance]

WHOOPS forgot it was my turn, have a phat filler flee so we can keep things moving xo

[Stare]

Delaney's strike on Torren landed hard, and Ridley knew what it meant.

"Torren?" For a moment she was five years old and useless again, her voice so scared that she would be ashamed if her entire body wasn't slowly going numb. Even Milo's weight against her seemed to be fading away as she stared at the blood splattering down into the water and the color quickly draining from her district partner's face. She couldn't help but think of the Opening Ceremonies and his teasing smile, or their last night in the Capitol when he'd lead her through a first and final dance. He'd been so vibrant for a boy who had always been doomed to have his life cut short.

And it was finally happening. He was dying.

"You're wrong." His voice felt like a dagger through her ribs. "I don't know you at all."

"No," she whispered, taking a short step toward him. It couldn't end like this, twisted and angry and hurt. She could fix him. She could fix everything. "No, please. Torren. Torren."

A hand landed on her arm. Milo was saying something, his tone becoming increasingly panicked, but all Ridley could see was blood and a broken boy who still had so much to offer the world. She tried to take another step forward but the hand held her firm. Delaney.

"Let go," she snapped, knowing that she sounded like a child, knowing that their opponents would try to kill her if she got any closer, knowing that Milo needed her, knowing that Torren would not live long enough to forgive. She started lunging forward, her tone raising in pitch. "Let me go - I need - I need to - Torren."

She didn't know when she had started screaming but suddenly she couldn't stop, thrashing against Delaney's grip as her ally dragged her back. She cried out Torren's name over and over again, blood and water sloshing up against her shins. Even as the distance increased between them Ridley could tell that he was fading fast. There would be no fixing him. No saving him. She felt as if she was choking on her own shrieks.

You're wrong.

She finally went limp in Delaney's grasp, allowing herself to be pulled away from her district partner's final breaths. Ridley Le Roux didn't cry, but there was a certain hollow feeling that hadn't been there before, aching and overwhelming.

I don't know you at all.

A piece of her died with Torren Jaroux that night.

Neither do I.

{D1F RIDLEY LE ROUX gets dragged out of the fight}


table credit goes to the fabulous shrimp!

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Following the filler flee trend as time is precious!

[Reyes flees]

[goat]

When she pulled her sword back, she knew it was over. A boy was dead, and she had been to one to kill him. For all the training that Careers went through, there was no proper training on how to feel after you took somebody’s life. She stared down at him and felt nothing, no grief, no regret. It simply felt like she had completed a job.

Ridley started toward the boy she’d killed. There had been something between them, though she didn’t know what, and she hadn’t let that stop her from striking him down. She reached over and put her hand on Ridley’s arm. It was half a cold display of comfort, half a means to keep her contained. She hadn’t let herself succumb to grief, no matter how badly she wanted to, and wouldn’t allow her ally to either.

Ridley tried to move, so she gripped her arm tighter. She begged for her to let go, but Delaney kept her grip firm. She wanted so bad to have something, anything to say to her, but she didn’t, so she kept her mouth shut. When Ridley began screaming, she wrapped both her arms around her chest and started to drag her backward.

“Christ, Ridley,” Delaney said, though she wasn’t sure if Ridley could hear her over her own screams. “You have to get it together.”

They continued this pathetic dance down the bank of the river, Delaney’s grip never wavering. She wished she could be comforting, but she was all ice and sharp edges and she didn’t know how to give the love she never received. Even with Charisma, she’d been harsh, always telling it like it is, never letting her forget she was going to die. Well, she had died, and Delaney didn’t know how she was supposed to live with that.

When Ridley finally went limp, Delaney let out a sigh. “You really put on a show back there, huh?” She laughed to herself, as she was sure Ridley wasn’t listening. “Come on. You’re fine. I can’t carry the both of you out of here.


[ delaney flees. ]