remnants and fragments | {woodsmen v nevermore} day 4

[dars]

dust the dust up
off your shoulders
you’ll come round
and be h u m a n again

Believe it or not, he sensed them before he saw them. He didn't know if it was the instinct of a hunter, to know that something killable was in the vicinity, or if it was that prey instinct that had been bred into all humans, that unrecognizable voice in the back of the mind telling them that they were prey, and that something had just caught sight of them, and that they should run.

But they didn't see Silas; Silas saw them. That made him the hunter.

They were a couple hundred yards ahead, still completely intact, which Silas found hugely annoying; must he do everything himself?

He hated heights already, as it were, and it just so happened that the other group was walking across a bridge that was far too orderly to have been a natural occurrence, even despite the fact that it was made entirely of living, breathing roots. It swayed slightly in the wind, eternally groaning as pieces of it ground against others, as tributes walked across it with careful ease, as Silas hopped as fast as he dared toward them.

Get to them before they see you. Get to them before they see you. Get to them before-

He hadn't even checked to make sure Princess and Fiend were coming: he didn't care. If he got there in time, maybe he could just push all three of the pesky fuckers over the edge and wipe his hands of it.

He hesitated. He stopped completely.

There would be no sneaking up on them. Not when every step sent an echoing hiss down into the chasm below them; he'd been lucky he hadn't been spotted yet. No, he knew what he would do.

He smiled, eyes wide and hungry, fingers fumbling with his bag as he lifted a jar of tar from his bag, and plucked a match from his pocket. He took in a deep breath through the nose, closing his eyes and sighing with pleasure.

"Oh yeah."

He'd promised to make Seven suffer. Seven attacked him, so Silas shaved Seven's friend of his limbs while Seven watched. And now, Seven was in the back of the pack, facing away from him, and Silas decided that he hadn't yet suffered enough.

He sent out a whistle, waiting just long enough for the other group to notice before sending his weapon flying through the air.

[silas uses a match to light four javelins on fire with tar]

[silas attacks phi, flaming javelin]
|z4GC74he7javelin
[15154 -- MISS -- 0.0 damage]

1-50
[result]

[accuracy, day four]
javelin
[result]

javelin·1-50·javelin

[tick 12a / calla]

Laurent had tied my jacket into a sling last night, the neon fabric wrapping around my arm and then around my neck and it's straining a little, kind of uncomfortable, but I think it's better than just letting it hang. It's better than having to deal with the pain. And at least the ugly thing was good for something.

It feels like we've been walking for forever, in some kind of weather-induced haze and I'm about three seconds away from piping up and making us stop again. It's when we're crossing the bridge, a woven thing of roots and altitude, when I'm two seconds away from complaining, and there's a sudden whooshing sound, a thunk and “Shit!” A javelin lands between my feet and it’s flaming.

I recoil and follow its path, finding Ten at the end. Because of course. And against the sun, backlit by a halo, he looks so much like Aries that I trip over my own feet. It stirs something in the chasm of my chest, a story of worn down pages, memories of childhood rivalries and tree branches.

There's a pain in my skull.

And it's different than the kind I felt yesterday, when one of the mutts had crushed the bones in my arm and I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming. But I took it down, eventually, struck with a falsified liquid courage, and I think I’m still riding that high.

I’d proven myself to Noel, enough that I don't think her blade will end up in my back anytime soon, and Laurent must like me enough if he was willing to help me.

I might not have Ikaros as my shield anymore, but I do have them.

And so I do a headcount from across the bridge. Three against three. One of the girls, Twelve, is gone, but I don’t remember counting her face in the sky last night. I had ticked her district partner off my list, watched one half of the wildcards burn away, but she wasn't there.

Maybe Ten killed her this morning.

I wouldn't be surprised.

He did get Ikaros out of the way for me, after all. Maybe a little prematurely, maybe a little savagely. Maybe I should've stood back a little more.

But still.

"Where's our warm welcome?" I call, because it still feels like there's a bomb under my tongue. And because I run on the finer things, on chaos, on broken hearts and ruined lives and after-school detention. Because Aries always had his fists, but I always had my words. "C'mon, we're all friends here."

And because I'm an idiot.

I would always goad my brother before I'd ever greet him, held anything I could over his head because I'd never reach it otherwise. With a feeling of deja vu, I find Ten again and make a show of looking around him, shifting my weight back and forth, “Your aim is off." I squint against the sun, "What's wrong? Lost your girlfriend already?”

I don't give him a chance to reply.

phi attacks silas ; warhammer

hCk3J4mszBspiked blunt

BROKEN STERNUM -- 7.5 damage + 1 strength

spiked blunt

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

dust the dust up
off your shoulders
you’ll come round
and be h u m a n again

Ah, another day of not being okay with this.

She had spent that morning combing through her hair, gasping every other moment. "Silas! Beck!" She pointed at her blonde strands and then to a pile of dirt by her feet, pouting dramatically. "You both picked a horrible place to camp. I feel sick."

Another hour was spent trying to wash her clothes and weapons, fixing her bandages and tearing her shirt to tie up her hair. Sophie Fray is tired of letting this arena get the best of her — and now she needs a distraction. From the bugs, and the bad memories, and the blood.

She charges ahead, chopping lazily through the underbrush. "Keep up, boys!" She can hear them grunting and swinging their own weapons, but still. She is the reason they got a head start. "This is so much better than the desert."

Well, that's what she thinks before they come across the bridge. She quickly falls to the back of the pack, hand to her chest and eyes glued to the sky. She doesn't want to risk looking down. "Oh, um, I think this is a great camp. For tonight. Right here."

She sits down, legs crossed, refusing to move forward. The dirt really isn't that bad. She's so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't even notice the other alliance further down the bridge, or Silas charging forward. Everything sounds like wind, until it sounds like a broken bone.

It's strange, how quickly she jumps to her feet. Her senses are thrown off for a moment, and she has to find her balance. "Silas—" but she can't find the words, and she's too afraid to join him on the bridge. She's afraid.

The source of the fear doesn't matter.

She opens her bag frantically, pulling out her jar of tar and reaching for one of the awkward spears poking out. The ones that bump into her as she walks, the ones she never cared for. She has to trust them now. "Just hold on. Give me a second."

There's no time to waste. It's all fire and blades now.

She makes her move.

( sophie attacks phi ; flaming javelin #1 )
cjXATsbeE7javelin
( miss )

1-50
( extinguished )

accuracy | day four

javelin
( block )

javelin·1-50·javelin

[gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕]

Time is an illusion.

Last night seemed to be over quicker than the last.

I swear my eyes had just shut and the white dove had just appeared when I was woken by the rustling of the two boys and murmurs of conversation. A groan escapes my lips and I roll over.Just five more minutes. I want to say, but I am not home at the Mansion. Here five more minutes could mean life.

Five more minutes could mean death.

So without a single complaint I fling my bag over my shoulder, grip my weapon in my hand, and begin the long hike that will lead us down an unknown path. At home, everything was certain. Dinner was sure to come just as certainly as Death would appear on your eighteenth birthday.

But here, there is a chance that He will stay hidden, a chance to live.

Here, there is a chance for hope.

"Alright boys, let's not do anything stup-"

I'm cut off mid sentence by Phi's screamed curse, and I immediately take up a defensive stance. My fingers grip around the center of my weapon tightly, and I have one foot slightly in front of the other ready to pounce in a seconds notice. The flaming javelin barely missed, and I wonder how he always seems to get so lucky.

"Where's our warm welcome?"

"Shut up Phi. I think the fire is warm enough," I say as I stomp out the small cluster of flames below his feet. If this place goes up in flames not one of us will make it out alive.

Finally, I can make out the figures in front of us, and their faces are all too familiar. Except this time they're a man down, and I know for certain she's not dead.

The faces that are broadcast at night haunt my dreams.

And hers has yet to make an appearance.

"The next time I wanted to see your faces was lit up on the sky. Disappointing." My eyes go from Silas, to Sophie, then finally to Beck. Especially you. But I decide to leave those words unsaid. A small airy laugh escapes my lips as I keep my gaze on him. "We didn't even see each other this much in the mansion."

Sophie Fray throws her own weapon, but Phi manages to knock it away with some ease. Maybe he's finally getting the hang of this, but my eyes are still locked on the boy that I know all too well.

"Funny how that works, isn't it?"

There is a sadness in my voice, because we both know this isn't funny at all. But without another word I lift my weapon and turn to the boy who started it all, the one fired the first shot.

The one that last time barely got away.

"Come on now, let's all fight nice."

There's a lot of things I don't know about time.

But one thing I do know is someone's is about to run out.

( noel attacks silas ; double ended voulge )
uUWpGh7DAPglaive
( stabbed through heart - 40 )

glaive

[Python]

His body was ripe with anticipation. After an uneventful day and night, Laurent was waiting for something terrifying to happen. Day two had felt like the calm before the storm; a brief fight with mutts, one broken arm, then silence. No humans fighting them, no creatures stalking them. It was just the three of them versus the elements. Unbearable humidity, relentless insects, and nothing but disorienting green stretching for miles and miles. Laurent once thought jungles were beautiful and interesting. Now he silently begged for something to relieve the heat.

Their journey led them to one of the worst structures he had ever seen. Tangles of tree roots wound together, tight enough to step on. It was a bridge suspended above what sounded like roaring waters, and Laurent felt his heart rate spike. Walking across this thing felt like the worst decision, yet nobody said a word. Everyone simply accepted this as another path, not a protest to be heard. He almost spoke up himself, but decided against sounding like a coward in front of Noel. She would only question him, point out his obvious flaws. He had to appear tougher than expected.

Laurent couldn't believe his eyes when he spotted him. Silas was here yet again, sending out a whistle warning before launching a flaming spear toward Phi. "Seriously?" He called out, suddenly remembering his own jar of tar. Was this the time to retaliate? Fight fire with fire?

Did he even have the time?

"Are you guys stalking us or something?"

Although Beck was a welcome face, Laurent did not want to see him under these circumstances. It was also becoming tiring, encountering the same faces over and over again. Silas had already proven himself unstable, and Sophie was a career. They were the last people Laurent wanted to fight. He was the clear loser.

Fuck.

He withdrew his spear in time to hear Noel's response. How she wanted to see their faces in the anthem, how she hadn't seen Beck at all in 'the mansion'. A mansion, huh? So they were rich, yet it seemed they had absolutely no relationship. What kind of messed up family was this?

Best not to question it.

He gasped when Noel surged forward. Her blade piercing cleanly into Silas' chest, unmistakably through vital organs given the amount of blood that seeped into his shirt. It happened so fast, so unexpectedly, Laurent almost didn't believe it. Noel couldn't have defeated Silas so quickly, right? But remember her roots. Compare them to his. Silas was mean, but that didn't make him skilled.

It froze him. He didn't move a muscle, and stared in astonishment.

"Holy shit."

[[nyte]]

we're all broken
it's  f a t e
all the pieces are there
they just aren't in their p l a c e

He'd been alone for a long time. Self-inflicted isolation cutting away at what was left of a foolish little boy. He'd been hopeful, then they told him he'd die. He'd been angry, then he'd found relief in liquid gold. He'd been empty, then they'd made him smile.

It figured that would be just as fleeting.

Noel mentioned home. He'd done his best to forget that mansion on that cursed island where only they existed. She summoned bitter memories of better days, when he at least had something on hand to make the pain go away. "We were dead men anyway," He narrowed his eyes, searching for something familiar within her. A pain that only she'd understand. They were bound not by blood but by suffering. This body was his now, at the cost of having every last bit of it broken. Did she feel the same? He couldn't tell. "I didn't want to watch anyone else die."

Fate was funny like that.

Noel spat poison, simpering sweetness that cut to his core. Come on now, let's all fight nice. Her blade erupted through Silas' chest and the canon fire only deafened a strangled scream. That must have been Beck, it sounded like him but he didn't feel how it tore through clenched teeth. "Silas?" Strong and safe as a lighthouse standing tall through a terrible storm. The boy from District Ten was invincible. They were meant to be friends until they weren't. It wasn't time for that to end.

But Silas didn't answer. Beck knew he couldn't. "Silas?!"

Panic was cold as a blade to his neck, drawing blood with every labored gasp. His chest was tight, his throat tighter. He wanted to look at his enemies, to will their faces to twist into those of the monsters they'd faced the day before. He wanted those hands to belong to anyone but Noel and for the voice he heard somewhere far away to be a beast's howl and not Laurent. Holy shit.

He couldn't look away. His eyes stayed, fixed, upon Silas. This wasn't happening. This was a nightmare. They were somewhere in the desert watching the sunset and waiting for it to rise again.

Loss was unbearable and euphoric all at once. His eyes threatened to burst as something warm collected in their corners. He bit the inside of his cheek until he drew blood because he knew he couldn't cry. They'd eat him alive. Beck was scared. He supposed he always had been, but this time he'd nowhere to run.

He stumbled back, snapping like twine stretched thin. "Sophie?" There were probably a thousand things Beck was supposed to do. Perhaps he was meant to pick up his blade and charge at Silas' killer screaming of vengeance. Perhaps he was meant to run as far as his legs could take him and hope the next time he saw any of them they'd be haloed against the night sky.

But he didn't. Beck didn't know what to do now.

His hand found her shoulder, the touch little more than a phantom's as he struggled to find the eye of this storm now that everything had gone pitch black. "I think Silas is hurt."

[tick 12a / calla]

Noel's weapon slides clean through Ten's chest and I forget about the rain of fire that fell at my feet. I forget about the sling around my neck and the dull ache of my arm. I forget about every doubt I had once about my allies.

I forget about it all because I was right.

I knew they were right choice.

Because when I had yelled for Noel at the towers, she came running. When that stupid bird had swooped down and shredded my vest, she speared it right out of the sky. And now, when Ten tries to finish what I started, she gets to him first.

"Holy shit is right." And I blink past Laurent's stillness, brushing Noel's elbow when I walk by, basking in some foreign sense of solidarity.

I get to him second.

There's a moment between one step and the next, when the warhammer in my grip feels heavier than normal, like it might slip out of hand and fall off the bridge. But I trace the P H I I had carved into it the night before Ikaros died, and hold it steady.

It must be the adrenaline of this, the sudden rush of success that made the kill feel like mine, the wrapping up of a loose end. And I trust Noel enough now to watch my back, enough to crouch down in front of Ten, tilting my head and watching him bleed out onto the ground. I think I'd kill to see Aries like this, below me, finally. But with him still cozy in Seven, where every second I'm still alive must be agony for him, I think this'll do.

This is enough.

“You said you were what, the fear?” I laugh low, just loud enough for him to hear, something mocking in my tone, “No, you’re an example.”

Because I barely had to lift a finger, just dodged a few bullets, talked a bit of shit, let Noel do what she was trained for. My good hand sweeps down and I gesture to my chest, still breathing, whole, unhurt. “See this? Not even a scratch.” When I lean over him, I feel bigger for the first time in my life, “Don’t fuck with me.”

I'll see you in hell, I think silently, spitting up the oil spill in my throat and tucking the promise between my ribs.

There's a rustle of voices from further down and it takes me a second to remember that Ten's allies are still here, shell-shocked and still from the sudden way he fell.

"Get out of here." I tell them, throwing One's own words back at her, from back when we first did this, when Ikaros hit the ground and our roles were reversed, "Or she'll kill you two next."

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

dust the dust up
off your shoulders
you’ll come round
and be h u m a n again

[filler for reaction post.]

( sophie flees the fight )