The Bloodbath

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

May 24, 2020 11:04:35 GMT -5 thompson harvard - d2b - arc said:

[ d5m september yorgos | post #16 | attack 1021]

[ d5m september yorgos | post #17 | attack 1084]

{ september }

Appa and I spent a lot of nights looking at the stars. With the help of Octavia’s notes of astrology earlier, I’d be able to stay up for a few hours and tell my partner about them. Stories like Aquila; the eagle who carried Zeus’ thunderbolts or Cygnus, the god of balance and seen as the swan in the sky. I loved to tell Appa about them because it wasted time for us and it kept their head full during the night, which was my goal given their fear of it. The stories got older as we did, facing the reality that these stories were just myths. Tales told by old men and women sitting around the campfire to entertain the children and explain nature. We knew those stories weren’t real, but we didn’t have any other stories to share. We never knew how to turn those stars into something real and fathomable. Something we could touch and feel and understand. To us, the stars were an escape.

But now, as a victor of war, every fallen soldier became a star in my atmosphere. And those stories were real. Oh my god, they were so unbelievably real. I, like the old men and women who birthed mythology, saw stories in every single person that I encountered.

They saw stories in nature. Why the sun goes behind the clouds or why our heart stops beating or why the crops grow in certain times of winter; they made stories of why the earth ticked. My stories came from the people who breathed off of every fallen leaf and planted seed, every raindrop and ray of sunlight. We all stood from the same planet and came together, roots and stumps intertwining into this forest of teenagers who have to pay the price for our relatives.

I looked over at the duo left and they seemed to be having a moment. Albeit my internal thoughts of taking advantage of the weak open spot, I knew in my heart that I had to let them be. It was me returning the favor to that boy for providing me a clean mind in my panic. A heart for a heart or an eye for an eye. Hopefully I didn’t lose either of mine within this next fight.

I turned my gaze to the rest of the arena. There were twenty-one (soon to be twenty-two) dead bodies here. There were twenty one families who would have an empty seat at the table or an empty bed in the home. If they had a bed. Some of these people could be surrounded by dirt as a bed. But the only way that I could know for now is from the same myths that ancient storytellers provided us. I can create my own legends out of the people here. The girl who died defending peace was now in the stars watching over the world. She may be disappointed, but God would be too if he saw the remains of this country.

I saw Samiyuq. The winner of last years’ Games. Was it possible that two Districts would win back to back so early? I couldn’t imagine the whispers that would arise within the Capitol at that. Would they think it was rigged, pure luck? How is it possible that two districts could win consecutively so soon into the games? It would become the next big thing they’d talk about for the next few years, even if someone else had won.. The back to back winners from Five. I wondered what ze were thinking right now. Were they surprised? Happy that they might have someone at home that understands what they’ve been through? I hoped so. I hoped we would be able to have some sort of bond because of it. But as long as I can hope and as long as I can pray, God does not protect the sinner.

The movement from across the arena brought me back to my senses and immediately to defense mode. My sword was tighter in my hand and my eyes were alert to the movement. The other boy stood up and turned around to face me and I knew that meant she was dead. I had let them have their peace and now we were at peace. It was man against man. How “God” intended it to be as Gramma would say. In another world I’d consider being friends with him. He was well grounded and knew when to fight and when not to. He knew when it was right to take a step out from the chaos of the world and help someone. But we aren’t in another world. We’re in this world and it’s so fucked up. ”Hey kid,” the male wiped his sword on his cape to fill the void of movement. ”Got a name?”

Right. My name. ”Sven.” I recessed into the name that I used for the rebels during our shelter. It was my defense name. The one I knew I had to use in order to protect myself. But the war was four years ago- I had no reason to fear the worst. I didn’t need to protect myself anymore. I let out a sigh and shook my head to my own action. ”It’s September. Sven was the name I used when we would use our barn to shelter the rebels. We didn’t want our real names getting out because we didn’t want to risk putting us in danger, so we gave ourselves names to cover it up.” My heart was pounding at the speed of light due to my confession. Was it stupid of me to do that? Was my family going to get killed because I leaked our underground business? Reaching back to the levels of hell I felt in my panic, I had to pull it back up. This guy wasn’t going to save me from a runaway heart again. ”What’s your name?” I took a few steps closer to him to close the gap because we both knew we couldn’t sit and talk forever. I gave a nod to the body next to her. ”She from your home too?” As my feet inched closer I saw him raise his sword and give a nod. We both knew. This was it. We were the end. It was his invitation to end this battle once and for all.

And I took it.

[attacks babe, sword]
9Qb6yVjqJ|sword
[3.5 sc]

sword

[gamemaker kelsier]

May 25, 2020 14:43:23 GMT -5 gamemaker kelsier said:

[Babe Adroxis 9M, attack 13, 1182/1050]

[Babe Adroxis 9M, attack 14, 1188]

b a b e .

"Oh, I hope some day
I'll make it out of here
Even if it takes all night
or a hundred years."

Ihe sun isn't as high in the sky anymore, the light doesn't seem to shine on his blade the way it did at the beginning of this. The crowd seems caught in a moment of silence as he prepares to face off against the other kid, bets are exchanged in a flurry in the stands and he hears the sound of a kid laughing from far away. Babe wonders how long they've been at this, how many minutes it's been, maybe even hours.

He wonders how much time he has left and as if on cue, he hears the ticking of a clock in the back of his mind. His father's shadow passes by in front of him, prowling. Babe blinks but it's not so easy to banish ghosts, and maybe his father has never truly left him.

Ximena's body cools slowly behind him and a weariness settles down slow over his shoulders. It'd be so easy to just lay down beside her, to just press his forehead into her shoulder and let his opponent's blade end him just as clean as he had done her. But Babe has never been allowed the easy way out, he doubts things would be different now.

There's just one person between him and freedom, one single human being between him and his bed. It'd be something else to go home and see his friends again, to walk into his uncle's embrace and to finally let sleeping wolves lie. He didn't need his father haunting him anymore, the question is no longer there.

Babe understands that his father had made a choice back then and he can't hate him for it. Sometimes he wishes his aim had been a little better, that he'd gotten just an inch further to the right but then Babe would have missed so much, he'd never even have known Ximena and that seems like a tragedy.

If the story of his life is destined to end here at the end of the other boy's sword, then so be it.

"Sven," his opponent lies, and then something in him seems to bend and he says, "It’s September." Babe wonders if he's a Rebel sympathiser or if it's just what his family did. Either way, the knowledge that he isnt completely an enemy doesn't go unnoticed. It's just another thing that makes it harder for Babe to want to kill him.

But they have to fight, there is no choice, no happy ending where they both walk off into the sunset, arm in arm like a couple of cowboys. This kid, September, he isn't Babe's friend. He's still the enemy. So Babe raises his sword, knees bending slightly as he prepares himself to fight him. He nods, movement gentle. One of them is going to die.

"I'm Babe," he says and raises his sword to block September's attack, "Adroxis, my family owned Adroxis Ammunitions back in Nine." The name shouldn't be foreign, his family crest had been stamped onto the handle of most of the guns in Panem and they'd been known to supply both sides. It was what had gotten their factory stormed in the first place.

September's blade hits his and slides down it, Babe was not expecting the force and he feels it when September's blade bites into his skin, teasing. "Ximena is-- was family, I took her in when she lost her parents," he says, voice faltering on her name, "There's a lot of us back home like that."

The war took a lot from everyone, Babe's case has never truly been unique. The amount that people had sacrificed for their freedom was insurmountable. So many people hate the rebels for what they've caused but the number of lives given up just for the hope of a brighter future is too high to count and deserves more than hatred. It's easy to hate the dead, to forget them when you can't put a face or a name to them.

"You got a family, September?" Babe asks, "Someone who'll miss you if you don't make it back?"

Babe twists around the other boy quickly and raises his blade up in a forward, pushing motion, aiming straight for something fatal.

[babe attacks sept with sword]
C4LUCB0gmosword
[1188 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage]

sword

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

May 25, 2020 16:11:44 GMT -5 thompson harvard - d2b - arc said:

[ d5m september yorgos | post #17 | attack 1084]

[ d5m september yorgos | post #18 | attack xxxx]

{ september }

”I’m Babe.” Babe. He raised his sword up to try and block my attack, which worked for the moment being as my blade collided with his. It slid down to then lightly tease his skin, a scrape, to lightly open his skin to the world. ”Adroxis, my family owned the Adroxis Ammunitions back in Nine.” Like that was helpful. I’m sure that Babes’ family business was something that any of the rebels that took shelter in our barn knew of, but I wasn’t reading the inscriptions on their guns to know where they came from. I didn’t care about the weapons. I cared about their lives. We were saving lives and that was more important.

”Ximena is-” his voice breaks at the mention of her name, but continues. ”Was family, I took her in when she lost her parents.” So we were both protectors. We both were protecting someone back at home. Unfortunately, for the rebel, the girl he was protecting was brought here with him. I was lucky that Appa had grown too old and they were in the male pool for names. Despite their identity they had to be put somewhere for the reaping, so Appa was put with the men as they were born male. I was lucky that I didn’t have to worry about being put into the same situation as Babe and Ximena. But I wasn’t lucky because I knew very well in this last fight I had a very high chance of dying, and if I didn’t, nothing would ever be the same back at home. ”There’s a lot of us back home like that.”

I never gave thought to the other children in Five, really. It wasn’t something that I realized because in my mind we were always there to be that home for children. We were the barn that the stray cat could come to for refuge during the cold storm. When life got tough and blowing and it felt so goddamn hard to move for the people in Five, we were there. It wasn’t some superhero case. It was us providing to the family that we always knew. The people of District Five were our home and we felt like it was our responsibility to provide for them. In a safari of lions and cheetahs, we were the African Elephant of the land. We decided the pace in which our herd moves based on the state of the barn. If our barn was taking home to a group of people, we moved slower, helping them get back on their feet.

The sun was starting to set on the colosseum. The forest. The safari. This place was everything and nothing at the same time. It was the central focus of every single element and being that still lived in this world, the wind coming to a close, the earth coming to a still. Everyone was watching what would become of Babe Adroxis and September Yorgos. In true industrial, Capitol-like fashion, the forest of teenagers that came here was all cut down. Deforestation played its card, and like any other toxic pollutant in the world, killed the life that once flourished. We became the blazen Amazon.

”You got a family, September? Someone who’ll miss you if you don’t make it back?” Babe raises the question and the back of my mind registers it as a taunt. Like somehow Babe had this idea that my family that I thought would miss me so much would throw it all away. Like they didn’t care.

Did they?

I don’t know what they’re thinking. I hope they wanted me home. I hope they would treat my death with sorrow and my life with cheer, raising a glass of toast for my homecoming. But what after that? What do we do once we’re home? Go back to normal like we hadn’t just been raised to the Fates to test our luck in death?

Another thought; who was my family? Appa? Was it Octavia, Argos, Noelle?

He then spun around and aimed his sword at me like he was one of the knights of the seven kingdoms, like he knew what he was doing. His sword brushed past me as if the gods told his sword to bend from my body.

”Yeah, I do.” I gave a thought to my dilemma. ”I’ve got two sisters and an older brother. August, October, November.” My breath almost lifted up into a light laugh - something that may radiate as insanity in the current environment - due to our names. ”You can guess what the birth order was. I’ve also got Appa. They were one of the rebels we sheltered during the war and we’ve been a pair ever since.” I didn’t want to say we were lovers - not yet. The emotions we felt for each other were all so real and so valid, but I didn’t want our relationship to be concrete in the face of death. I didn’t want to proclaim love when my life was on the line. Besides, Appa can hear about my love when I get home. My sword fought with the force of air as I rose it up and struck down, praying that my love was the strongest force I could provide.

[attacks babe, sword]
E9LNiqT1hMsword
[sc 3.5 lmfaoo]

sword

[gamemaker kelsier]

May 26, 2020 3:14:39 GMT -5 gamemaker kelsier said:

[Babe Adroxis 9M, attack 14, 1188]

[Babe Adroxis 9M, attack 15, 1161]

b a b e .

"Call my friends and
tell them that I love them
And I'll miss them
But I'm not sorry"

It's lonely at the end of it all. Babe feels it as his sword hits air and he uses his forward momentum to roll across the sand in one fluid motion. He regains his footing quickly but sandy ash makes its way into the bed of his sandals in a decidedly uncomfortable way. Nine has a river that cuts through it dividing the warehouse district up into slices but the banks are strewn with pebbles and rock. Babe was not expecting sand to be like this, so pesky and everywhere. He feels it in the folds of his costume and even in weird crevices of his skin that it shouldn't be.

He is now at least fourty-two percent sand and the sun is still so damn hot.

Babe thinks about that river, about swimming in it as a kid. It was safest to swim it near the slums. At the edge of the warehouse district there's a bridge that crosses the river at the top of a large waterfall and on the other side, a little way down a wide but steep path, is where the less fortunate live. The river widens there and the current slows right down, forming a natural swimming hole. Cy used to take him all the time before the days were truly dark, before the war touched them and everything changed.

But when he thinks back about an idyllic summer day, he thinks of long afternoons lying on sun-warmed rocks.

Babe could use a swim now. Sweat makes the dirty cape from his costume stick to his skin and sand sticks to dried blood from various cuts on his body. He's yet to get any serious injury but he's lost a good amount of blood from all the minor hits. He knows there isn't much fight left in him and for a moment, he's almost afraid.

Everything that he's been fighting for today has begun to feel so far away from him. Home is hundreds of miles from here, those streets won't be the same anyway if he makes it back alive. They won't recognize him, the cement won't feel the same underneath his feet and life won't be the same, people will look at him in a different way. He won't be Babe anymore, he'll be an icon, a figurine for people to pass around and comment on.

Is there truly a life waiting for him past the death of September?

He can't say yes with any certainty.

Babe blinks as a blade slides across his field of vision, he tries to step back in time but the sword cuts into his cheek, just under his left eye. The bite seems more pointed and maybe it's because it's literally right there in his face. Babe mutters a curse out under his breath, now is obviously not the time to get distracted.

September talks about family, about his sisters and someone named Appa who he has to get home to and Babe supposes he has that too, he does want to see people again. Tara and Burma, probably even Tian were watching this moment here, cheering him on. He wants to see them all again so badly that it feels like burning in his lungs.

Or maybe he just wants one last cigarette.

A quiet cigarette and a cup of coffee with the rising sun as a companion, his back against a fence post. He considers that. Maybe it's selfish to let nicotine drive him when September has love keeping him fighting.

But love is just another addiction anyway.

Babe gazes at September, wishing for a justification to kill him. A part of him thinks that it's still not too late, that the two of them could turn around and go for the Capitolites in the stands. Maybe that's something Ximena or Tara might be wild enough to do. September is smarter than that or maybe just has too much to live for.

"This Appa, you love 'em?" he asks, "You two a thing?"

Maybe it's a stupid thing to gather more information on his opponent but maybe that's not what he's after at all, maybe he's just after an excuse to lay down his sword and die.

His father still stands there, the end of his gun resting against September's head and it's like the god of death himself has made a choice for his favourite reaper.

Babe's arm is sore, his knuckles nearly shot from the force of the blow on his blade each time and he knows that he's losing his will to fight, that this is slowly tipping towards an obvious victor and there's a reality hidden in there somewhere that it's not him.

Does he want to die?

The silence.

He lifts his blade again slowly against the other boy and springs forward, searching for an answer.

[babe attacks sept with sword]
wYozdTxXIisword
[Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damage]

sword

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

May 26, 2020 11:17:22 GMT -5 thompson harvard - d2b - arc said:

[ d5m september yorgos | post #18 | attack 1149]

[ d5m september yorgos | post #19 | attack xxxx]

{ september }

I wondered if Appa’s candle had run out yet. Not that it’s been a while since I’ve left, but I was their candle. I was the flicker that danced in the light and resembled every single source of happiness to them. The flowing flame of life, where just like the human body, it cannot live without its blood. I was Appa’s candle. The wax slowly dripped further and further down the sides of the stick, wick following, until all that was left was melted wax. For some reason I believed that I was connected to that candle. The one I made for them the night before the reaping, scared and shivering, that their name would be the one that escaped. Little did I know that my candle was the last resource of my life. I had a fear that if I died Appa’s candle would soon follow. And then what do they have to remember of me after that? A flame is only temporary.

The first time I started making candles was for Appa’s birthday. I spent the entire two weeks before worrying about what I should make for them because I wanted to make something. I kept asking Mum what I should make and she’d often shrug and walk away. The next best option was Octavia, because Argos was useless and Noelle would suggest giving them a unicorn. The only thing that I really wanted to try and implement was this theme of light to the gift, because a lot of our time bonding when Appa first came to the shelter was over how scared they were of the war. Octavia mentioned how there was a way we could take the fat from the leftover meat we had from Appa’s donations. She figured that since they provide us with kindness that I should use their donation to return it. The following evening we claimed the kitchen for ourselves as we tried to make the candle. Octavia liked Appa the most of my family members because Octavia and I shared a little bit of a bond because of our love interests. We didn’t have the traditional ones that Argos and Noelle had. We knew that love was a spectrum and appreciated it. Argos and Noelle believed in their own philosophies - that a queen may have her king and that a boy must have his girl. Obviously Noelle was the one with elegance of the two. Argos still believed he could pick up any woman without a worry. Luckily for any woman, they would never come nearby Argos. He smelled too bad. Horse piss was not the cologne of the century.

It didn’t take much time for us to make the actual candle wax, but trying to get the damn wick to stay still was the issue. Eventually we got it done and I decorated the lid of the jar with an image of a barn. Appa could always find home - a light - in the barn, even if I was there or not. Appa liked it and it just became tradition for me to create a candle for them every two months. It kept my flame burning, it kept a kindling fire between the two of us that was unique and special.

And in this moment, my candle felt like it was nearing the end of it’s line. I was tired. So tired. I was the flame at the ceremonies of the church, trying to make it to the altar, but struggling so hard to stay alive. I wanted to be at the altar where all things became pure again. I felt so dirty. I couldn’t tell if the particles on my body were ash or sand, and I didn’t care to match the difference. I didn’t see one as long as I wasn’t the one becoming the ash.

Babe never made the attempt to tell who his family was outside of Ximena. Was Ximena his only family? I couldn’t imagine the pain that I’d feel if I returned home to have no family. For all of this fighting to return to a life of loneliness, a life of regret. Wishing that I took the road of sacrifice, giving myself up for the brothers and sisters that needed a victor. The brothers and sisters who need hope that they might be okay, if their brother can do it, so can they. But maybe victor was his hope. Maybe, in a sense, this victory would validate him. Babe needed the feeling of accomplishment beneath his wing as he flew home to become the lone raven. I didn’t know Babe’s story, and why he fought, but maybe that’s because he didn’t want me to. He didn’t want me to live with this burden that I killed the hope that a family needs so badly in this time of post-war depression.

”This Appa, you love ‘em?” God, yes I do. I love Appa so goddamn much. ”You two a thing?” Babe continues interrogating me as if he were to be writing my autobiography, but maybe he was. Maybe this was his way of letting me be able to share my life and my emotions in my dying moments. He found a way to provide me with the closure that I needed if I were to not return home. ”I do, but we aren’t a thing.” I looked around the arena, my eyes landed on Samiyuq for a moment and all ze could do was give me an angered nod. Stop looking around, you’re fighting for your life. I turned my gaze back to him as the silence filled the battlefield like a flood. Not flood, smoke. I would not let any flood control this arena. Water defeats fire, and I will not be defeated.

Babe pulled up his sword, fighting through the smoke to survive the flame. I expected to feel the opening of another wound as I bent my body, but I felt nothing. He missed. ”We never made it official. We didn’t think we needed to make our relationship the world, but I guess I’ll have to deal with the world a lot if I returned to him.” It all felt real now. Through the thick smoke of war I realized that if I returned home I would have no secrets. I couldn’t have any - the world would be turned to look at me for the following year. Was he asking me these questions to save me the hardships of trying to hide my life? He must be. This arena was all a game. A show for the capitol - the cheering and whooping at every death proves it. I was a part of their game. The next piece - one of three - to become the kneeling knight to the capitol’s work. But what if Babe lived? Did he not have a story to share?

I configured myself back to my normal stance, collecting myself, trying to control my fire. Don’t let it burn too quick, but don’t let it flicker so low. ”If she - Ximena was your family, who’s the family you’re returning to?” Babe had clearly seen some shit in his past, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had no direct family, but blood does not dictate your name. ”Where will you be when this all ends?” Would he be trying to organize a new rebellion, providing a home? Giving children the opportunity to learn how to fight in order to prepare for this place? I wanted to know what his legacy will be if he lived. Life does not belong where legacy ends.

I wouldn’t let my legacy end here.

Like the fire still burning in Appa’s heart, I moved to the rhythm of my own life.

[attacks babe, sword]
fX_z2pxnUisword

sword

[gamemaker kelsier]

May 27, 2020 18:22:27 GMT -5 gamemaker kelsier said:

[Babe Adroxis 9M, attack 15, 1161]

[Babe Adroxis 9M, attack 16, 1158]

b a b e .

"Call my friends and
tell them that I love them
And I'll miss them
But I'm not sorry"

He steps to the left and twists almost lazily as September lunges for him and in the moment, it's easy to remember that Babe has experience, that he isn't just some kid picking up a weapon for the first time. Moments like this, life or death, they've been part of his life for more than half his existence.

And maybe he could have been a dancer instead. The idea is too pretty for a kid rough as him.

Assigning anything but the blade in his hand and the blank expression on his face to him is a dangerous endeavour. Applying feeling, thought to a kid like him who is framed so often as a monster is in poor taste. A kid like him is supposed to play the one-dimensional villain, the man with a curly moustache and a monocle with plans to blow up the city. A good kid like September is needed to balance him out, to play the hero.

Babe is painted in shades of grey, September in sunshine hues of glory. If he squints, he can see the crown already on his opponent's head but he can't just lay down, he just can't. He's always been so stubborn.

"My father killed us all when it seemed like the Capitol was going to breach the factory walls, I was twelve" he says and pulls aside the gladiator armour slightly to show the puckered hole in his chest. "This isn't my first death."

"I started taking in other orphans a few years ago, my house is always full," he says, a slight smile finally forming, "They're my family."

And there is more to say, he's got blood left, an Uncle and aunt and cousins but that's so different. They're just connected by looks and genetics. Tara, Burma, all the rest, they're different. They came because they wanted to and stay because they love him.

And it's something like nicotene loving them back.

"I'm sorry," Babe says, "I need to try for them or they'll never forgive me."

And so he finally does.

[babe attacks sept with sword]
xKwDQaNNJlsword
[stabbed in eye]

sword