into the unknown | 83rd finale

[gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕]

My body may be weak, but my mind is not.

The freezing cold made my muscles stiff and the blood pouring from my head seemed to make my whole body ache, but my mind was still sharp. All the training I've gone through has taught me how to ignore the pain, to focus on what was on hand. All the training has taught me how to win.

How to properly wear a crown.

Her blade came crashing down and quickly I dove the to the side, rolling out of the way. My reaction was a half a second too slow and her blade cut into my spine, just enough to leave a small mark. I stood up slowly, using my sword as a crutch on the ground to help my stiff muscles straighten again. Dry droplets of blood were frozen to my face.

Like tears streaking down my cheeks.

The girl's laughed echoed around the empty arena, a laugh almost as cold as my own.

"For them?"

"For who else? This is all a Game. They'll let us fight it out until it begins to end differently then they had planned. They decide, not us."

We are living in a giant game of chess. One we're both stuck in checkmate, but we are not the ones who get to decide the final move. The whole time we were in the Arena, we never made the choices, they did. We were all just pieces in their game. And even when one of us left we would still be a part of their game.

A pawn with a crown atop her head.

"I can't fix that, Bell. Neither can a crown."

My eyes narrow and my teeth grind into my bottom lip hard. That's where she was oh so wrong. A crown can fix anything. The crown is the only reason we are here.

The only reason to live.

"No, no they can't save us. The funny thing is, we won't even be able to save ourselves."

It is not me who is weak.

It is Ridley Le Roux.

( bell attacks ridley ; handsaw )
KuQcGlfqgbsword
( sc on forehead - 4.5 )

sword

[Stare]

Blood trickled down from the stinging wound on her forehead, the heat of it nearly scalding against her frozen skin. Ridley lifted her dead hand to smear it away until it dried or it froze or she died. Whichever came first.

She could feel her story staggering toward its end at the glimmering tip of Bell's blade, but she wasn't done fighting. Not yet. Ridley wasn't the kind of person to not finish something she'd started.

And that was her virtue, not her family's.

Efram had taught her that she had the choice. She could stand honorably and let Bell cut her down and be done with it. She didn't have to suffer. But she had become so good at suffering, at clawing her way out of a dire situation, that she couldn't find it in herself to bow out quite yet. She wasn't brave like Charisma, she didn't have heart like Milo, she wasn't as strong as Delaney, but she had the sheer stupid willpower to back out of a fight even if she thought she might lose. It was enough to propel her forward despite the pain.

"Out lives were never our to save, anyway, were they?" Like so many other things in her life, the Games hadn't been a choice for Ridley. She hadn't wanted any of it. But she played with the cards she was dealt until the end of the round, no folding, because at her very core that was who she was.

And if she was going to lose, she wasn't going to go out quietly.

"Are you brave, Bell?" Ridley began to spin her scythe in big, beautiful loops, wrist twisting about until the weapon was just a flash of silver in the night. A few of the not-quite-smothered embers still clinging to it glowed back almost to life, then vanished. In the wind the blade whistled unsung secrets of the blood it had drawn, the lives it had taken. "When it's just you by yourself, and no one else is watching, are you really, truly, honestly brave? I never thought I was."

She'd assumed herself to be a coward. But then Ridley thought about standing guard over Charisma's last breaths and caring about a boy from her district who was doomed to die and holding back tears so Milo wouldn't see her cry and lying to Delaney as she died. She thought about training every single day for a family she was convinced she didn't deserve. She thought about hiding underneath a kitchen table. She thought about standing there, in the cold, facing off against a girl who would almost certainly kill her.

Ridley brought her blade down.

"I think I was wrong."

{d1f ridley le roux attacks d4f bell hailsham with scythe (glaive)}
3wKKyNs3Wwglaive
{deep gash on left thigh, 8.0 + 1.0 blades}

table credit goes to the spectacular Dars!

glaive

[gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕]

Red.

A color that represents rage.

A color that is the fire that burns underneath me.

A color that used to be my favorite.

And now it is the color of my blood as it spills onto the pure white snow that sits beneath my feet. Her blade cut deep into my thigh, the burn as hot as the fire that they would keep lit in the mansion. A grunt escaped from my mouth as blade almost scraped against bone and the warm blood seeped down my leg.

There are push overs, and there are fighters.

I am not sure which one she truly is deep down inside.

But one thing for sure is that Ridley Le Roux would not hand over my crown as easily as the rest.

"Our lives were never ours to save, anyway, were they?"

A soft smile plays on my lips, one that for once is not filled with malice, but one that is filled with a soft understanding. Maybe she had lived a sheltered life. Maybe the other girl didn't live a life where every decision was made for you. Even the decision of the value of your life. Maybe she just truly didn't know.

"No, they weren't at all. I'm glad you're finally starting to catch on."

My hand falls to my thigh and squeezes tight. An attempt to keep as much blood in my body as I possibly can, all while her scythe spins round and round, like a clock ticking the time away.

"Are you brave, Bell?" When it's just you by yourself, and no one else is watching, are you really, truly, honestly brave? I never thought I was."

I force myself to stand up straighter, but my face falls. How dare she asks if I am brave. Brave is walking down the halls everyday, knowing that they all hate you and want to see your kingdom come crashing down. Brave is finding a will to live, even after your mother threw you to the wolves. Brave is waking up every morning, even knowing that today might be your last. That you might not see another morning ever again.

I am many things.

I am brave.

But I am also so much more.

"Brave? I don't need to be brave. You want to know why? Because I know I won't lose."

Life or death.

Somebody has always made that choice for me.

But finally I get to decide somebody's fate that is not my own.

And I choose death.

( bell attacks ridley ; handsaw )
A4ah4Wioz4sword
( sc on left shoulder - 3.5 )

sword

[Stare]

Ridley's lips twisted into a half smile even as she staggered back, shoulder stinging. Her very soul was beginning to ache, a bitter sort of anger at the unfairness of it all. "I envy you, then, for not having to know how to be brave." Because bravery wasn't knowing she would win. Bravery was standing there, strong, even though she could lose. Blood trickled down her back, soaking into her sweater to mingle with Milo's. "Or maybe I don't."

Cole told me the purpose of your family; children hand-reared for slaughter. She glanced at Reyes's body, eyebrows drawing together slightly. Perhaps she and Bell weren't so different, both trying to fulfill a family legacy that they'd never asked for. Raised to be fighters, regardless of whether or not it was what they'd wanted.

And yet, she couldn't blame her family for where she stood right then. If she hadn't built her walls so high, maybe someone would have taken pity on her instead of hoping she died in the slowest, most painful way possible. Maybe someone would have cared enough to take her place. Perhaps that would have hurt worse, though, watching someone who had loved her die in her stead. It had been difficult enough to lose Charisma and Torren and Milo and Delaney. The problem, then, was that she hadn't built her walls high enough. She hadn't been able to cast them aside as necessary sacrifices.

Of course she'd loved them. How couldn't she?

"I think part of bravery is knowing who you are. Where you've come from. Why you're here." Snowflakes cartwheeled around her, catching in her hair, tumbling against her cheeks. The air smelled sharply of blood. She could feel some of it freezing along her eyebrow. "I'm here to pay off a debt. This is the price I'm paying for my name. So why are you here? For a crown?" Isn’t it your purpose to die anyway? "Or are you here for a name, too?"

Ridley Le Roux had been chosen as a sacrifice. The Capitol had decided that she would pay off the debts of her nation. Bell had volunteered. She'd made the choice herself. Something about it nagged at Ridley, though. Standing there, staring at the other Career, she felt the lines blurring. She didn't know Bell. She didn't pretend to know her. But suddenly she couldn't help but wonder if they really were killing each other.

Or maybe they were just standing in front of mirror images, killing themselves.

{d1f ridley le roux attacks d4f bell hailsham with scythe (glaive)}
dUT5e2Txnwglaive
{deep gash on right calf, 8.0 + 1.0 blades + 1.0 td + 1.0 scythe magic}

table credit goes to the spectacular Dars!

glaive

[gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕]

He was coming closer.

With every hit that she landed on me, every drop of my blood that was being spilled onto the cold snow, Death grew closer. My legs are weak and shaking, standing up straight was becoming a challenge of its own. My breath grows more and more shallow, my lungs gasping, desperate for every bit of air they can get no matter how small. He stands near by, waiting to drape his dark cloak over me, waiting to claim my last breath as it leaves my body. He waits to take me to his kingdom.

One where I will no longer be queen.

One where I will simply be just a girl.

Her weapon has cut me down time and time again. She was tearing apart my kingdom, brick by brick. I hope she enjoys seeing me suffer. I hope she knows that not matter how hard she hits, I will not fall.

My body has grown slower, with each breath I take it begs me to stop. It asks me to just lay down, to let the harsh cold of the snow to consume me and to let my pain be no more. Finally, my mind is shutting down too. It does not want to focus, it simply wants to slip into the abyss and be no more. It wants me to be at peace, once and for all.

But a true queen does not just roll over and die.

A true queen stands. She stands until the final blade is drawn across her throat.

"Of course I'm here for the crown, who isn't? It's what I live for, what I've dreamed of for years."

It is the only reason I am still alive.

"You're lying to yourself Ridley, if you say that you are not here for one too."

Slowly I move towards her. The blood leaving a trail behind me, a trail of the places I have been, but doubtful to lead to the places I will go. Every movement is a struggle, even the simple motion of lifting up my sword as I prepare to strike her one last time.

"I am not here for a name. I am here to tell a story, a story that isn't only mine to tell."

Beck.

Gwen.

Rose.

Wade.

Cole.

"Save them." The words are nothing more than a whisper that linger on my lips.

Save them all Ridley Le Roux.

( bell attacks ridley ; handsaw )
yBXkd||jSFsword
( sc on shoulder - 3.5 )

sword

[Stare]

She hurt.

Death felt closer than it ever had before. Closer than when she'd lost her hand. Closer than when Efram had been a mere few hits away from ending her completely. Closer, even, than when the shards of two broken bottles had dug into her back so deeply she'd been certain they'd cut clean into her lungs. Every step that she took sent a fresh drizzle of blood into the snow, the droplets stark red like rosebuds against the shimmering snow.

Torren wants roses on his grave.

Ridley's breaths were heavy and shuddering as she tried to draw herself up taller. This was what the Capitol loved - not peaceful deaths or quiet goodbyes, but gory ends that made them shudder and thirst for even more blood the next year. Perhaps she'd always been destined for that kind of death. Violence and cruelty seemed to be the running theme in her live, ever present as she grew from receiving to delivering. That didn't make it right, though. And that didn't mean she had to be happy to be a human sacrifice.

"Call me a liar." Her words were wavering. Her balance faltered and she stumbled back a step, cringing, before forcing herself to move forward. Death called to her in the tempting form of eternal sleep. No more pain. Wasn't that what she had promised Penelope? Ridley steeled herself against the agony of each step and kept moving. Not yet. "Call me a coward. Call me weak."

Le Roux clung to her like a blessing, a curse, a destiny that she hadn't meant to inherit. It called for her to have courage and be noble. Was it too late? Had she already shattered the facade? Had she shown her true cruelty? Or had she been worthy of the name?

She glanced down at her dead hand.

Did it matter?

Torren wanted roses on his grave. Charisma wanted more time with her allies. Milo wanted to go home. Delaney wanted to win. Efram wanted it all to mean something. What was Ridley's dying wish? If she couldn't have safety, what did she want?

Milo's hand in hers. Charisma's smile. Delaney's arm across her shoulders. Torren's laugh. And someone, anyone, who realized how brave she'd been all those years.

"Do your worst," she continued through gritted teeth, staggering forward another step. The cold air was beginning to feel like knives in her lungs. "It doesn't matter. I know who I am."

Orphan.

Le Roux.

Devil.

Bitch.

Friend.

Brave.

"I am Ridley."

{d1f ridley le roux attacks d4f bell hailsham with scythe (glaive)}
bjPnpI1Me2glaive
{shallow cut on chest, 4.0}

table credit goes to the spectacular Dars!

glaive

[gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕]

Once upon a time there was a little girl.

She was supposed to live a long life. A life filled with happiness and heartbreaks. A life that was fulfilling. A life that was meant to be hers to live. But that was taken away from her the minute that she was born.

And now I am dying.

He is even closer now. So close that I can feel his warm breath creeping down my neck in perfect rhythm with the beating of my heart.

Ba-dum. Inhale.

Ba-dum. Exhale.

Over and over and over again. My vision has begun to blur and it takes all my focus to find the figure of the girl in front of me. It is filled with blood and snow and Death, but I can still manage to make her out.

Just barely.

Her weapon grazes my stomach, but it is still enough to spill more of the little blood I have left. I wince, but no noise leaves my mouth. The pain is beginning to turn me numb.

He waits, still standing over me with his hand beginning to reach out. Just one more. He must be thinking.

"Alright then Ridley, if you are so brave." A beat. "Kill me."

I pause, waiting for her to attack. To do something. Anything.

"Kill me!" My yell fills the entire arena, echoing in the emptiness.

Please. I leave the final words unspoken and let the silence draw out.

It is more deafening than my scream.

There should be no reason to say it, she should know. The pain is becoming unbearable, my breath less ad less frequent. Each one even more of a struggle than the last. My eyes meet hers and she is crumbling, threatening too fall down and not get back up again.

Does she want to die too?

My last act as queen will be one of mercy. One that is not filled with hate, but for once a compassion, maybe for the first time in my entire life. With the last bit of energy that is left in my body I lift my sword over my head.

And let it fall down.

Once upon a time-

( bell attacks ridley ; handsaw )
1OhujQ5ATQsword
( miss - 0.0 )

sword

[Stare]

"Kill me!"

Ridley just barely managed to dodge the flash of Bell's blade, staggering backward as her frostbitten gasp floated near her face like a ghost. The girl from Four was fading, but she took no comfort in that fact. Ridley was fading, too. She knew how it felt. She wouldn't wish it on anyone, not even the Gamemakers. Especially not on a girl who should have never been their twisted kind of sacrifice in the first place.

Bell Hailshame had been meant for such greater things than death in an Arena at the hands of an orphan.

"I don't know if I can," she admitted, a half whisper than finally revealed the cowardice she'd worked so hard to hide. The Le Rouxes would be ashamed of her, certainly, but if these were her final moments, she sure as hell was going to live them out for herself and no one else. Ridley gestured to Penelope's body, broken and beautiful and a perfect example of everything that she wasn't capable of. "I couldn't kill her. I almost didn't kill Efram."

But something in the picture wasn't fitting quite right, a juxtaposition that Ridley was having trouble spotting. Brave enough to kill Bell? Brave enough to kill her? She stared at the girl from Four through the haze of frost and snow, bleeding and shaking, barely able to stand. They truly were exactly the same. The reality was that Bell wasn't a warrior. She was a child.

It wasn't brave to kill a child. It was cruel.

But Ridley didn't bear the burden of guilt alone. If she was despicable for trying to kill Bell, then the Gamemakers were doubly so for forcing her into it in the first place. Not that Gamemaker cruelty was news to anyone. Still, Ridley couldn't help but raise her gaze up toward the sky, cursing the false gods for trying to map out her fate. Mercy, they called it, letting one of them live.

She and Bell knew the truth. They'd always known the truth.

"I am brave," she murmured, half to herself, even though she knew her pathetic declaration was probably echoing through every speaker in Panem. "But killing you? That has nothing to do with courage."

Her allies' deaths hadn't happened as a result of bravery. Watching Torren be cut down wasn't noble. The devil was in the details - facing Bell was brave, but cutting her down was something else entirely. It came from that primal need for survival, and now that she'd finally been cornered, it was on display for everyone to see.

Would Pax have been proud? Or disappointed?

Would Ridley see her soon?

"I'll try," she said at last. "But Bell?"

Snow spiraling around her, she aimed for the other girl's heart.

"You deserve so much more than death."

{d1f ridley le roux attacks d4f bell hailsham with scythe (glaive)}
nsHviarf8yglaive
{shallow cut on left thigh, 3.5}
{operation badass death: stabbed through heart (as per kari's request)}

table credit goes to the spectacular Dars!

glaive

[Stare]

Bell's collapse reminded Ridley of a priceless painting catching on fire - heartbreaking, horrifying, irreversible. All she could do was watch as the vivid colors were choked out by ash and snow, the blood splattered across the ground attempting to act as some sort of replacement. But as a cannon fired and Ridley stood there surrounded by three corpses, she decided that there was nothing in the world that could replace the masterpiece that had been Bell Hailsham.

And then she was alone.

The silence felt deafening in the wake of eight days of hell. Chest heaving and legs shaking, Ridley finally allowed herself to drop to her knees and shove the scythe as far away from herself as possible. Another surge of blood soaked down her spine. Her vision swam. If they didn't swoop in and rescue her soon, the Gamemakers would have no Victor of the 83rd Hunger Games.

As if in response to the stillness, something moved in her bag. Ridley managed a ghost of a laugh, reaching in with her good hand and tugging out Charisma's tiny, squirming form. The kitten let out a high pitched mewl of protest at the cold before Ridley bundled her against her chest, wrapping the remnants of her cloak tightly against herself.

When she had first been reaped, she'd only allowed herself to linger on thoughts of winning briefly. She'd pictured herself covered in blood, maybe missing an eye, with some sort of hellfire rising behind her as she drank in the glory of her final victory. She never would have imagined that it would look like this instead - teeth chattering, hunched over in the snow, wearing a dead boy's sweater, clinging to a kitten.

But oh, all she needed was time to heal. Then the world would see hellfire clear as day.

Because everything had changed. The Le Rouxes couldn't be rid of her now, no matter how they felt about her. She didn't need to cling to the hope that they would forever honor Pax's memory - she'd forged her own kind of guarantee, making a hero of herself using blood and gold. All the cowards in One who had smiled in relief at the sound of her name echoing through the square would have visits payed to them.

A sound came from above. Ridley tilted her head back, forcing a smile for her saviors. She could be their new darling, their perfect little Career victor, if it gave her the protection she needed to collect on the debts owed to her. Because it wasn't just some poor souls in One on her list anymore. No, the Capitol had some debts, too, in the form of a brave little fighter and a boy who had wanted roses on his grave and a boy with a huge heart and the strongest girl she'd ever known. The slash across her back had freed her from her old nickname, it was true, but there was a better name to fear than the devil's.

A name like Ridley Le Roux.

END OF THE 83RD HUNGER GAMES