build up a new us of flowers and blood [wadjet + bb + wnn]

[WT]

You think it was the Night Walker at first.

With no charring on the body it certainly can't have been the Blisserwhelp—but, as your gaze snaps from body to body and you take in the mangled remains lying behind once-majestic horns, you suppose it can't actually have been the Night Walker, either. Tasting the air only leaves you choking on the heavy scents of new rot and flowers; frustrated, you reluctantly lean closer to the other Wadjet's wounds, your tongue flickering rapidly.

There. You coil your body, reflexively hissing long and low, as you try that spot again to confirm your find. Humans—at least one, but considering the extent of the damages on all three bodies, probably more. Humans killed her.

Pulling her from a pile of petals and bloody mud is a laborious task without arms. You do it anyway, wriggling under the ruin of her body and lifting until she's clear, then lower her gently back to the ground and groom her as best you can. (There isn't enough left of the other bodies to force you to notice that you don't care enough to put in that effort for them.) Smoothing her wings into place and scraping dirt and dried blood from her crest and tail, the way the two of you might have done if you met when you could have been friends, can't help her look less like hell, but going through the motions does sooth you a little. At least one being alive knows that she died—cares that she died.

You didn't know her. You'll never know exactly what happened here. But she's family, and somewhere out there is at least one human with her blood on their hands.

Hunting them won't do her any more good than grooming her, but maybe it will make you feel better, too.

---

You don't stay with the bodies, but over the next few days you don't stray far, either. Humans are boring creatures who like routine and shelter; the ones that killed the other Wadjet are likely around here, and the area has no shortage or prey or roosts to support you. You spend your time alternating between casual hunting for food and determined hunting for vengeance, and if you have only a full stomach to show for it at the end of the first day, well, snakes live slowly; you can be patient.

When the worst of the rain hits you drape yourself in the branches of a many-fruited tree, think with a pang of your fellow now likely washed away in the flood below you, and comfort yourself with the knowledge that the humans must be miserable; and when the storm fades away you claim the darkening skies again, not caring what attention your bright feathers might bring because you are larger and faster than anything in these skies that might dare challenge you. You don't find the humans that night, either, but you return to your roosting tree with feathers cleaned by a last burst of rain and let yourself feel content.

Your patience, sure enough, is rewarded the next day. You're on the ground to feel the rhythm of a voice through your quadrate bone, a soft rumble under the wind above you, and you take off with intention; the humans are easy to find after that—all seven of them, surely enough to have enacted the slaughter you stumbled across—and you circle high above them in the wind and thorns, less deciding what to do and more deciding how to do it.

Something sharp shines in one of the humans' hands, a lighter-haired one distracted by some spat with the others. Now, you think, and you fold your wings and dive.



Uraeus [Wadjet] attacks D6F Terra Markov, knife
eqT65iuv2mknife
[Shallow Cut on Stomach - 4.0]



title song is "Flowers and Blood" by Mariee Sioux.

you ever get five hundred words into a post and then remember a factoid and start :frantic_typing: about snake hearing

knife

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

The storm keeps us turned around.

We had been walking towards the red beach again, I was absolutely sure, but between the petals plastering themselves against my skin and the thorns whipping through the air and cutting little marks all across my skin—somehow it feels like this hell will never end. It feels like it's fucking eat us alive, the damp slowing seeping all the way through our black clothes and into our bones, until there's a chill down to our marrow. Maybe the damp air would be okay if it was warmer here, if I knew that the sun would warm me again in a few hours, but there is only this endless storm of flower and cloud and pain and.

I could only barely see the sky last night.

But I would, I think, have recognized Helle anywhere. I didn't care about the storm, didn't care about the pain of the thorns digging into my skin, I had to stare at the night sky. Water dripped all down my face, soaked through my clothes, but I didn't look away once. Waited, arms curled around my knees, pretending to be on watch when really—I had to know.

And there she had been, just visible beyond the petal storm, face against the stars.

At the time, I had thought that it was an oddly appropriate place for her to end up, the night sky twinkling behind her. The entire universe at her fingertips if she wanted it.

[ wip in work SO SORRY!! posting from mobile bc my wifi has litch rally broken but i dont wanna hold us up already. i will finish writing tomorrow ]

"What the fuck," I say when the thing lashes out at me, slices across my middle like it's nothing.

✩  terra attacks wadjet, misericorde  ✩

RCXKbjXwVeknife

[ roll ]

knife

[aya]

The rain continues into the evening, and even as the storm clears and the floodwaters recede, Will Johnwayne has given up hope on ever being dry again. It's easier to submit to the storm and its aftermath than to try to thwart mother nature or the gamemakers or a witch like Helle if she were the one who sent it. Even fools named Johnwayne know futility when they see it.

He takes a break from picking the dirt and pollen and crusted blood out from under his fingernails with the point of his bone-hilted dagger to glance up at the anthem tonight. He hasn't bothered before. Will's been counting the cannons; he doesn't care to know who his enemies are more personally than a number. He can take any one of 'em. Nine down, fourteen to go. It occurs to him that he might be avoiding the sky on purpose, to avoid seeing any face that might make a liar out of him when he says that he doesn't care, and so he watches the anthem that night out of spite.

He's still convinced it's some sort of technical error when only Hellemine lights up the sky. What's the other option? She died yesterday, he saw that. Three cannons fired today, he counted them. JJ killed someone in front of him — why else has Will been off sulking on his own? His brutal pragmatism has no clue how to comfort the shaken conscience of a new killer. There's no use in acknowledging murder as out of the ordinary. This is the Hunger Games. It is ordinary. It has to be.

In the morning, still damp, Will pulls his brother's letter from the pocket of his cloak. The Krane kid's drawing adheres to the envelope still, someone else's sentimental garbage stuck to someone else's sentimental garbage. Will should've given both to to the flood.

If he had, maybe he wouldn't be trudging through the petal wind, thinking about family and fathers. Thinking about his brother ditching him for the peacekeepers and shipping off to District Seven mere days before Ratmas. Thinking about how eighteen years ago to the day, Dan Johnwayne turned nineteen and died face down in the dirt under a covered wagon, instead of comfortably raising hell at home and maybe raising the son he'd known he was having. Wondering if he'd be harder to abandon if he were called something other than Johnwayne, or if it was something else intrinsic that doomed him to be unwanted.

Danger reaches them before they reach anywhere they're headed, but does it matter? Destinations are meaningless here. Far as Will can tell they've already seen the whole arena anyway. They will go where the Gamemakers put them. Child gladiators, it's almost become a job: sleep, wake, fight, sleep, wake, fight, sleep, wake —

Will notices the kids first, the sky serpent second, and this time he sticks to the ground. An aerial vantage isn't worth duking it out with a mythical flying horror, and so he crouches low instead, drawing his favorite dagger and locking his eyes on —

But Helle killed her.

Hex or curse or simple succumbing to wounds, this girl lay dead around the headstones that very first day. Yet here she stands, breathes, more corporeal than the specters that have been stalking them for so long that Will hardly sees them at the edges of his vision anymore.

This girl was dead, but she is not.

He can't waste his time with a ghost or doppelganger or gamemaker deception, not with the way his blood chills ever time he looks at her. He feels sorry for dismissing Helle, sorrier now that he's seen her face in the anthem, and he shouldn't've doubted the witch that cast the spell in the first place.

A thorn buries itself in his palm, right on the heel, scraping on the bone hilt of his beautiful dagger as he draws it.

"Nine o'clock, Jay," he calls in warning, loosing the blade at the bloodier boy in his line of vision. Save the Capitol trickery for later; even at his worst, at least Will knows where he stands with humans.

[attacks pisces, throwing knives]

jXrGc1sJuPthrowing knife

[ 9020 -- Knife Deep in Bicep -- 8.5 damage + 1 target practice ]

throwing knive

[pup]

---

Cyro's face is burned into the back of my mind. Every time I close my eyes I see his and can hear his voice. I don't feel any anger, though, like when I awoke in the catacombs and thought of Helle or Jade. I just feel empty, as if a pit in the base of my chest had opened up and begun to consume me.

We hadn't spoken before the games began. I was tired, sad, alone, helpless. The only people who I spoke to were those who took pity on me. Arabella, Meredith, Pisces, Dom, Helle, Jade. But his voice from the first time I ran into him, when I first attacked him without knowing his name, rings in my ears with each raindrop landing on my head.

"Sorry!" He had said when he first ran into me, bruising me.

I had attacked him.

"Back the fuck off!"

I hadn't.

"Back the fuck up, do you want to make my son an orphan?"

I got what I deserved, a broken knee.

Even though that had healed, I don't know if the wounds Dom had inflicted onto him will ever heal. Cyro's face hadn't been reflected into the sky, so maybe there's the chance that he was still alive, sent to the same hell Helle sent me too to battle mutts until he's dead or he escapes.

But the face I did see when the anthem played its chilling refrain made my blood run cold.

Cyro told the truth.

The witch is dead.

Seeing her face should have brought me the satisfaction I've been craving, right? It should've been a sign that my revenge was enacted. It was my deal with the devil: I was alive so that she could die. My life for hers.

But instead it just expanded the gaping pit in my chest. The devil wants more deaths. I can't hesitate like I did yesterday.

As the torrential downpour begins to relent and give way to calmer, clouded skies, all I can hope is that none of us get pneumonia.

I stayed silent the entire night. Even after Pisces' apology, Jade's ranting, Dom's fear of just staying alive.

There was nothing to say. They'll all be dead soon enough, taken away by the games. There's no point in trying to rationalize my thoughts into words for them anymore. They were going insane, but so was I.

As we begin to move away from the flooded beach, the air begins to fill with a colorful array of sweet-smelling leaves. The wind begins to pick up, bashing itself against my skin as my eye sight is filled with more and more petals and smells, and quickly I'm overwhelmed by them.

I feel a few sharp thorns begin to poke me, and for the first time since yesterday, I finally speak to my allies, my voice loud as I try desperately to be heard over the wind.

"Fuck, we have to find some way out of this!"

As bright colors consume my vision, I try to protect my eyes with my hand. But as I try to cover myself, the petals consume me, a leaf falls into my mouth and I end up needing to go on my hands and knees to cough it out while I try my best not to choke.

Then, as the wind abates slightly, it's clear that we aren't alone in this storm.

As the petal finally chooses to leave my throat, I hear the monster, the mutt. I see it first, the hulking figure of the snake. But I'm not afraid like when I saw the first snake I killed that now rests on my head as a crown.

The eight miniature snakes that follow me know that this is another creature I hold domain over, certainly, as the back away from the fight.

And this snake that knows I'm it's queen.

It lunges, but not at me or my allies. Instead, it strikes a blonde haired girl.

She had helped kill me, her weapon had connected with my jaw.

Two more boys are there, others who had attacked me.

I see the one who had taken my ear from me just before Helle had killed me. He caused the most damage, he was the most responsible for my death after Helle, and it was suddenly clear to me why I'm here now. The devil lead me here to finish my quest for vengeance.

I hold the weapon above me, Cyro's weapon, the one that must have been used to vanquish the witch. But before I can strike, I hear the other boy call how to him.

"Nine o'clock, Jay."

I set my face, readying myself for what I need to do. I won't falter this time. This isn't Meredith or Arabella or a father. This was just another boy who wanted me dead.

He helped kill me once before.

Now our roles are reversed.

"Don't worry, you won't need to care about time soon enough."

Then true to my word, I strike.

[attacks jj, spiked blunt]
I3lts4JwsRspiked blunt
[miss]

accuracy day 5
spiked blunt
[lmao]

---

spiked blunt·spiked blunt

[kap]

---

Nearly dying can do some seriously crazy things to your head. You not only become scared and paranoid that you'll actually die next time, but you become so many other things, too. For me, personally, I began to feel hopeless. I was almost certain that my next brush with an opposing band of tributes would be the end of me. That's why, the fourth night in the arena, after Cyro's face failed to show in the sky, I decided to try my best to enjoy myself, or at least try to numb my brain from the pain.

On the beach, as the thunderstorm finally began to subside a little bit, I picked up a bottle that was labeled as mead. I knew it was an alcohol of some sort, which I'd never even had a sip of back home. I was always the good, well-behaved kid. I never fought anyone back home. I never drank, I never smoke and I never even thought of breaking the rules if I didn't have to. Now, here in the arena, I'd certainly fought- hell, I'd even killed- and now I was going to drink.

The main struggle of it all was opening the bottle. When I finally got the cork out of it, I took a swig to reveal somewhat of a honey flavor. Not bad, I thought to myself. Throughout the night, I continued to drink until I was most certainly intoxicated, having drank about half of the bottle on my own. I then replaced the cork into the bottle and stayed up the rest of the night just thinking.

I talked to myself a little bit that night.

"Welcome to Hell, Pisces. This is it. This is what you got yourself into, all because that dumb bitch didn't show up to the reaping. You didn't have to volunteer, but here you are now. Now you're the dumb bitch," I muttered to myself. "You won't be here much longer. Might as well make the best of it."

I didn't sleep at all that night. When the sun came up, I was still wide awake. I was sobered up now, but I didn't want that to last. I reopened my mead and finished the rest of it as I waited for those who'd slept to wake up and join me. I needed to continue to numb the pain, so I'd be starting this day in a drunken state. Perhaps it'd make the fact that I was most definitely going to die if we had to fight anyone a bit easier to handle.

When the others were all awake, we got moving. We made our way back to the storm of petals that we'd encountered earlier on during our time in the arena. Something was a bit different this time, though. As the petals swirled around us, I felt something sharp cutting into my skin: thorns. Well, fuck, I thought to myself as I pulled a thron out of where my ear used to be before it was severed a couple of days prior.

I still missed that ear. It was gone for good, now, and it certainly disoriented me a bit. Speaking of being disoriented, I was drunk, too, so I wasn't sure how much that would help if we had to fight today. Then again, I was ready for death. As long as the others- Dom in particular- survived, I was accepting of whatever was going to come to me.

As long as Dom survived. That's all that mattered to me. He was all that truly, truly mattered to me in this arena. Sure, I cared about Jade and Zenia, too. I'd promised to protect them. The thing was, though, that I loved Dom. I loved Dominic more than I'd loved anyone else ever before.

It was when something started to come into view, that I knew we were going to have to fight. First, it was a large mutt attacking a girl and then I saw other tributes. I planted a kiss on Dom's lips and then started to charge towards the other tributes in a drunken rage.

I was being reckless, but it didn't matter. The pain would be numbed, at least a little bit, right? If I died, it was okay.

The girl who'd been hit by the mutt hits it back, and a boy speaks to his ally in warning before his knife flies toward me, planting itself deep in my bicep. Other than gritting my teeth and clenching my jaw a little bit, I don't react to the pain too much.

"That's not very nice of you," I spit.

My weapon is at the ready, although my footing is a little off. Zenia swings her weapon towards another boy and misses. I move toward the target she'd swung at and make my own move.

"Alright, I guess it's my turn," I say. Then, I strike.

---

[Pisces attacks JJ with Geode Morning Star (Spiked Blunt)]
LuFShM6MFGspiked blunt
[14086 -- DEEP GASH ON RIGHT FOREARM -- 8.0 damage]

spiked blunt

[D1f Jade Morin - Alyssaimagine]

---

Cyro's face wasn't in the sky that night, and Jade's stomach twisted in fear. She remembered Arabella, and how angry she'd been. She pressed the dragon plushie against her chest, and forced her eyes to close. Was he going to come back a Mutt just like Zenia had? If he did, Jade knew that the other alliance would all buy into his story. They'd all be stabbed in the back later, and that made her worry. She didn't want Arabella or Meredith to die like that, because Jade felt they deserved better than that. They didn't deserve being in the arena in the first place. She didn't want to see them die. She didn't want them murdered by the ally they cared about.

Jade got to her feet, and began rummaging through her satchel. Earlier when she was on her way back to the meeting spot after her run in with Arabella, she'd found a bottle of soju. She hadn't really planned on drinking it: the negative effects hadn't been worth the risk. However, the thought of Cyro returning as a Mutt to kill the people she'd learned to like in the arena...that was too much for her. It was enough that she had to worry about her own alliance with the Zenia Mutt. She didn't want either Pisces nor Dominic to die to Zenia, but she was here to protect them against the threat. Arabella and Meredith had no one, because they would all believe he'd just been magically patched up to rejoin them.

Her hand was shaking when she held onto the bottle. Her mind refused to think about the other things. Like the fact that she'd almost died that day. That was buried in the back of her mind. She only thought of Arabella and Meredith and the return of the Cyro Mutt. She hoped to see his face in the sky tomorrow, and not Arabella's. Not Meredith's. Her eyes glanced over to her own alliance. Not theirs, either. She took the top of the bottle off and sipped the alcohol at first. The flavor was a surprise, and she couldn't hold back the cough that followed. That was bitter. Wasn't alcohol supposed to be sweet or something? Adults always said how good it tasted, and this was the first time she doubted that.

After a moment of deliberation, she drank more and tried to finish the bottle in one big gulp, but she failed at that too. However, the more she drank, the less she cared about it. The sweeter the alcohol began to taste. At one point she'd noticed Pisces cradling his own alcohol, and she'd lifted hers up in toast, her face spread in a grin and she'd felt dizzy and almost on top of the world. She'd had the urge to go to the other's campsite and do something fun, because she liked Meredith and Arabella, so why not just get wasted away? She drank deeply, and the more she drank the more she thought about it and it sounded like a really good idea, right...?

----------------------------------

She passed out before she could act on that thought. And she was rudely awoken at some point in the night by an uncomfortable feeling. Her head ached like it had never ached before and the moment she'd gotten up, her stomach had expelled its contents. She rinsed her face off with the blood water when she was finished and she'd soon find herself knocked out again.

------------------------------------

"My head..." That was the first thing that came out of her mouth when she awoke again. Her head was pounding. Her stomach didn't feel good, and she resented her previous self's idea to drink. That had obviously been a really dumb idea, but she hadn't realized how difficult it would be. A tough Career like her shouldn't be bothered that much by the effects of alcohol, right? Unfortunately, she'd been wrong, and she had no choice but to live with herself after. With a wince, she glanced over at Pisces and wondered if he was in much better shape than she was. She groaned as the sun made her head hurt worse.

Unfortunately, she was still stuck in the arena, so there was little more she could do but gather her things and head out. They couldn't stay here for long, especially not after killing Cyro. The other alliance could be on their way for vengeance, and her heart felt like it dropped to the pit of her stomach when she realized the people she cared about likely hated her now. Arabella hadn't killed her yesterday when they'd met alone, and she said that she didn't hate her, but how long would that last? She'd helped take down their friend. Jade might not have put the final blow on the boy, but she hadn't gone easy on him, either.

As her alliance trudged through the storm, the petals turned on them. Instead of beautiful flowers, they grew thorns that searched for skin. One just grazed her arm, a light scratch, but she felt the urgency of the situation, so when the Mutt said they needed to get out of this storm, Jade couldn't help but agree, even if that meant agreeing with the Zenia Mutt. She could only hold her Dragon Plushie protectively and fight her way out of the storm, and hope all of them make it out without much pain. It was a relief when they'd finally made it out.

Of course, relief never lasted long in the arena. Not long after they met another alliance, and a Mutt had decided to join in the party. Jade glanced over at Zenia, wondering if the Mutt Girl had summoned a friend. She felt it was probable and groaned. Well, she'd have to take down Zenia's ally, then. She grabbed her sword and aimed for the Wadjet.

---

(Jade attacks Uraeus [Wadjet] with sword)
DrVfgKkMV9sword
( 1048 -- Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage)

Table made by Puppy

sword

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

Helle's face in the sky was a reaffirmation of JJ's failure. He'd made one promise going into this- only one. Not that he would survive, not that he would try, but that he would protect Helle. When he'd first made the promise he thought it meant protecting her from herself- she was... different. Charming nonetheless, but he'd expected her eccentricities to be her own downfall and he'd been wrong. He couldn't have ever imagined her being so adaptable, and so capable. And when her face hadn't lit up the sky that night, he'd dared to hope.

But then the next night came, and there she was. All alone in the sky with thousands of stars plucked directly from heaven to aid her on her journey and- he'd made one promise. It was supposed to be him up there. He wasn't supposed to stay long enough to see her- or any of them- go. And this was why.

Will was already pulling away, and JJ supposed it was only fair. Only one would live; letting himself care was allowing his heart to break in the days to come. Terra seemed afraid of being alone. JJ did too, he was sure. He feared what was to come, and the conversation that was to be had. Were they going to agree to go their separate ways and hope for the best, no longer able to help one another in a way that had so quickly become second nature? Would they stick it out together until the end and be forced to turn their weapons on one another, the biggest and hardest trial being the final one standing between themselves and their way home?

He took a walk that night after the anthem, didn't bother telling Will or Terra he was going. He had half a mind to keep going and maybe it would be the smartest thing to do, but instead he just screamed, his voice lost in the wind along with the thousands of velvety petals that swirled in a constant storm around him. And then when his voice was ragged and tired and his fingers ached from being clenched into fists for too long, he went back to the campsite, climbed into the tent with his friends, and eventually fell asleep.


The Capitol must've been growing bored. Or, more than likely, they were trying harder to get JJ his cannon. But he chose to believe that he was not the problem, the lack of death in general was. Four tributes stood before them, and a creature of scale and feather with hunger in its eye, and then there was JJ and his found family, held together only by the tattered remnants of the once-fortified armor that had surrounded them.

He missed Helle.

He was glad she wasn't here to see this, though.

"Zenia-" he said. The word felt foreign on his tongue and he couldn't believe he was really saying it. He'd seen her die, just as he'd seen his district partner. She'd been right when she said this girl might not have been dead after all. Which meant that she wasn't either, which was why her face wasn't in the anthem that first night, and why it was the second night.

She'd died alone, without JJ, without Will, without Terra. She'd died. For good.

"The dead don't die in the 85th Hunger Games."

His words were his realization and he resented the truth in them. So he stood stunned, wondering what to do next. Wondering if there was a point in trying.

"Nine o'clock, Jay," Will called, because even if he was pulling away they were still on the same side for now. And because one of the boys who was not on their side held his weapon in a way that said he meant to kill.

Zenia rushed toward him as well, and he deflected her attack, but the boy managed to land a hit squarely in his shoulder. He growled in pain, clenched teeth gnashing at open air as he contained a scream. If he died it was because he deserved to, he knew that. And he had no right to wish for life when he'd always been so sure he would meet his end in this arena, especially when he'd made one promise. One stupid, misguided, impossible to keep promise and then gone and broken it.

But he fought anyway.

[ jj attacks pisces, morning star ]
vVgBXTnXJ5spiked blunt
[ miss ]

[accuracy ]
spiked blunt
[ result ]

spiked blunt·spiked blunt

[fireflyz]

---

Nearly as soon as it seemed that they would not be disturbed again, Dominic had curled up on the rain-soaked ground to sleep. The odds of him finding out that this was all a dream were slim, but at the very least he wouldn't have to confront reality until morning. Yet, not even Dominic's dreams spared him from the reminders of what had transpired the previous day - taking the life of someone he didn't even know enough to hate and destroying the life of another simply because he was angry. He awoke with another headache and an overwhelming sense of dread, arms shaking as he pushed himself off the ground. The first object to materialize in his blurry vision was the handle of vodka he had unearthed - unsanded? - on the beach, wondering if it truly tasted like vanilla like the label implied. Dominic nearly reached for it, but the familiar stench of vomit made him pause. He couldn't identify the source, but the empty bottle laying next to Pisces indicated that at least one person needed to have their wits about them today, and it would have to be Dominic. Again.

He stuffed the bottle into his backpack and listened to it clink against his shoulders as he walked. As the shore faded away behind them and he was once again greeted by petals brushing against his nose, he couldn't help but allow a faint smile to cross his face. "Hey, we've basically made it around the whole arena now," he said, grasping at a petal that had landed in his hair. "At least there isn't any more uncharted territory."

Dominic closed his eyes, striding forward against the breeze. Every now and then the wind would still before picking up again in small bursts. His heart began to slow, and he opened his eyes just as a thorn scraped against his forehead. Instinctively, he pressed a hand over the scratch, feeling the blood well up against his fingertips. "Ow! Fuck. Where did that come from?"

As he peeled his hand away from his face, another thorn embedded itself between his knuckles, and another in his wrist. Before long, Dominic was engulfed in a swarm of thorns, swatting aimlessly at them as if doing so would make them disappear. Eventually, the storm let up, and Dominic moved his hands just in time to see the giant serpent emerging from the shadows, and the gaggle of tributes lurking behind it.

"Oh, fuck, not this shit again," he breathed out. Couldn't anyone catch a break in this place? Before he could react, Pisces pecked him on the mouth and turned to charge at the other tributes. Almost immediately, the rest of their allies stumbled after him. "Pisces? What are you - Zenia! Ja- ugh. Hold on, I'm coming."

He noticed how their eyes followed Zenia, the same way his and Pisces' and Jade's eyes had followed her in days prior. Frankly, it was getting old.

"Haven't any of you seen a ghost before?" Dominic said drily, swinging his arm back and forth. "I'm sure there's plenty in this arena."

[dominic attacks terra with geode morning star (spiked blunt)]
w8M25jxl0Uspiked blunt
accuracy, day 5
spiked blunt

---

table by puppy

spiked blunt·spiked blunt

[WT]

You think they might kill you.

You knew that was a possibility when you went hunting; you're proud, but not foolish, and you saw what they did to the other Wadjet, the Blisserwhelp, even the Night Walker—beings larger and more powerful than any given human, but not immune to being swarmed. Any opponent that could bring the three of them down together wouldn't need to take their time with you alone.

Knowing this when you found the bodies didn't keep you from setting out on your hunt, and thinking about it as the human whose stomach you slashed slices deep across one of your wings before you can clear her reach doesn't convince you to fly away. Nothing will; you have no other way to address your furious grief for a stranger who was family. But it doesn't keep you from being scared.

It's just that the fear of death itself repels you less than the fear thrumming through your anger—fear that if they came for her they'll come for you, fear that you will die in this place no matter what you do so you might as well take the time and place into your own coils and squeeze. So you don't flee, though no one you care about would blame you for relenting in your loyalty to someone you never met; you spiral into the air, trailing blood into the petals around you, but you stay low enough for another human to reach you because that's the cost of staying low enough to reach them all back.

Their mouths move—maybe screaming in fear, maybe casual chatter; with your quadrate bone in the air it's hard to tell. You'd like to know they feel a sliver of what your fellow must have known before she died, but the truth is it doesn't change your mission, and in any case it's one of the quieter ones you aim for next. Let them mock you if they please, or have petty squabbles amongst each other, or fail to care about you at all until it's too late; you're here for vengeance, and you're not going away until they drag you from the sky.



Uraeus [Wadjet] attacks D2M Will Johnwayne, knife
5F8ZFwq2uNknife
[Shallow Cut on Right Hip - 3.5]

knife

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

One of the bloodied ones, for all that he ooks like he is nearing the brink of death, covered head to toe in thorns from the storms, damp all the way through just like us—well, he manages to make me laugh.

It's not a kind noise, but it's certainly genuine. Off-kilter and uncomfortable, the kind of laugh that I couldn't stop even if I wanted to.

That's not very nice of you, he says, and the noise bubbles out of my throat like it has a mind of its own. I doubt that he intended for it to be funny, doubt that he in any real way will understand why I'm laughing at what he's said, but my entire life has been a series of moments in which I am not understood.

A girl where she belongs, and yet, not.

"What would have been nice is your friend there staying fucking dead," I snap back, but it feels like between one breath and the next one of the others is trying to swing his morning star at me and I'm dodging out of the way and then the beastie is lurching towards Will and I'm trying to keep up, trying to block it, too. I don't want it anywhere near him, don't want it anywhere near JJ, and I don't understand why it's switched its target to someone not even attacking it. But the things crystalline blue eyes are sparkling with a surprising fire that I find I understand just a little bit too well.

Sparkling with anger.

With a want for blood.

"Will, watch out!" I call to him, but it's too late, and the thing grazes across his hipbone. "Don't touch him," I say, mostly to myself, keeping quick as I can to slash at the thing again with one of my knives.

✩  terra attacks wadjet, misericorde  ✩

zk5bGj4TGYknife

[ 2195 - sc - 3.5 ]


✩ pts boots reward shallow cut reroll ✩

knife

[ 2168 - dg right calf - 8.0 ]

knife·knife

[aya]

"That's not very nice of you," the boy hisses, and Will would laugh except Terra has already beat him to it. He's wrong, of course, or at least he would be any other year. Putting somebody out of their misery as quickly as possible is the nicest thing that one tribute can do for another. Why else would Mer have gone out of her way to ask him that favor the other day?

Maybe it's a District Two thing. There's twenty-foot dragon snake birds spiraling through the air, the dead falling and the dead rising and the dead staying down, there's kids who've never swung swords before making butchery jobs of one another, skulls spit and chests caved in, and the arena itself makes mince of them at its own discretion. He still hasn't seen a thing here worse than what he learned at home.

He's got too much experience shrugging off any assessments of his character to care what kind of monster some kid thinks he is. Doesn't matter. Johnwayne is latin for vicious bastard and never in his whole life has anyone accused Will of being kind.

"Hold still and it'll be nicer," he suggest plainly, as casual as if he were giving pointers on getting the biggest cannonball splash in the quarry lake, or how to inconspicuously set a trashcan fire, or the best shotgunning technique for drinking contests.

He draws another knife, aim even steadier now that the adrenaline is flowing, ready to — "Will, watch out!"

With Terra's warning, Will kicks off to the left, diving out of the way of the sky serpent's terrible jaws as it darts past her and strikes in his direction. Its fangs graze his hip and like a match to oil his blood ignites. He gasps, the electric ripples winding him, and then scrambles back to his feet to prove to himself that he still can. Poison. Clutching the knife in his hand like a teddybear or a lifeline, Will steadies himself, pulse pounding and chest heaving. He swallows a mouthful of saliva and the idle thought that Cricket Antoinette won't be bothered to make sure he's sent an antidote. His eyelid spasms. Fitting for Will, really. Die as he lived: neglected.

He flexes his fingers a few times, draws deep breaths to slow the hammer of his heart, willing it away like a bad flu. "Excuse your mouth," he grumbles at the serpent, death grip on the iridescent knife before he finds his target again. He doesn't care what this boy — or the others, or Terra, or JJ — think of him at all, but for his part, Will Johnwayne tries to aim nicer.

[attacks pisces, throwing knives]

qrZa0fK|uAthrowing knife

[ 9049 -- Shallow Cut on Bicep -- 3.5 damage ]

throwing knife

[d3f zenia siella trib sit 85th]

---

filler post here!
it's a lovely filler post, huh?
zenia's here to tell terra, "Glad to see you missed me so much, my dearest murderer."
her snake minions are probably watching her in the background.
she's gonna attack now!

---

(Zenia attacks JJ with Spiked Blunt)
a3bm1E9Jhxspiked blunt
(14045 -- BROKEN JAW -- 7.0 damage)

Table by Puppy

spiked blunt

[kap]

---

When it comes to the boy who I'd attacked, my weapon strikes his armor. I would've done far more to him had I struck flesh, but I couldn't let the disappointment of my mediocre attack get to me. I was almost certainly going to die here, anyway, so I would simply do what I could until that time came. Maybe I'd be lucky enough and if I did die, I'd be revived like Zenia was.

After my own attack, my target swings back at me and misses. Soon to follow, the large, serpentine creature swoops down again to make another move, and I'm almost certain for a moment that I'm about to meet my end by this thing's beak. Luckily enough, however, it attacks the boy whose knife had hit me. It's just a graze on his hip, but at least it's not me.

"What would have been nice is your friend there staying fucking dead," the girl who'd been dueling with the mutt said before she cut into it again. I wanted to retort, saying that Zenia wasn't dead because she didn't deserve it, but then I realized that I was so close to death because I probably did deserve it.

Sure, if you asked my family and friends back home they wouldn't have said that I deserved death. My allies here probably wouldn't have said I deserved it, either: especially not Dominic. Although, deep down, I knew I did. I'd killed Kestrel, my one piece of home in this arena aside from the necklace that Sagittarius had given me. I didn't give a proper explanation to anyone back home as to why I volunteered, either.

Did I even know why I'd volunteered?

I wasn't sure.

The alcohol, to an extent, numbs the sense of the blade that cuts into my skin again.

"Hold still and it'll be nicer," the boy's voice says. I realize that now is not the time to be nice. If I deserve death, it's coming, one way or another. I'm going to die, and I'm not going to be nice to those killing me while it happens.

There is one person I have to be nice to, though: Dominic. He needs to know how much I love him. He needs to know that I care. He needs to know that, even when I'm gone, I need him to keep on surviving.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm about to die- we all know that- but I love you, okay, Dominic?"

Then I turn to face the enemies once more.

"If you're going to kill me, you damn well better get it over with soon, because I'm done dancing."

I came into this arena with the idea that I'd be finally finishing the painted masterpiece that is my life, whether I lived or died, and now, I knew it'd end with my death. I was ready.

I swung my weapon once more, ready for it to meet flesh for perhaps the last time.

---

[Pisces attacks JJ with Geode Morning Star (Spiked Blunt)]
Glsmf4YRxwspiked blunt
[14084 -- BROKEN RIGHT WRIST -- 6.5 damage]

spiked blunt

[D1f Jade Morin - Alyssaimagine]

---

Her eyes sought out her ally, and she frowned. He wasn't doing all that great. They had both been on the brink of death the other day, and she felt a wave of anger when she realized this alliance was trying to cull out their weakest link first. It wasn't his fault that he was so injured: that's simply luck of the draw when it came to the arena. She'd seen his skill plenty of times in past fights to know it wasn't purely his fault. Pisces may have lacked the strength and skill of a trained Career, but Jade had felt he was pretty decent for a lower District kid. At least he hadn't crumbled, and he kept on fighting, which was more than she could ask from a boy that wasn't a Career.

Jade liked her allies, and his annoyance with her a couple of days ago hadn't bothered her in the least. In fact, she liked having someone there to keep her in line, because she felt like that meant they cared about her and she'd gone through most of her life without people caring about her. The only time her parents 'cared' was when she wasn't doing good enough. It was only when she had failed in training did her parents pay attention. When she was younger, she'd lose on purpose, but it hadn't been a good idea. Her father's anger may have been considered attention, but the punishments had never been worth it in the end.

For just a moment, her eyes found Zenia's. The girl she had failed so early on in the arena. In the bloodbath, she'd fallen and then returned to them as a mutt, and Jade knew it was her lack of skill. If she had been more focused on her allies, rather than finding a sword maybe she could have gotten Zenia out in time. She hoped the real Zenia would forgive her when she died - hopefully years later, because she had no plans of dying in the arena. Then, she sought out Pisces once more. She had to make sure that she didn't fail him to. She stepped in closer, taking a more protective stance near her ally. Hopefully she'd at least be able to deflect attacks.

His words startled her. She turned her head toward him and frowned. He was already talking about death like it had already happened, and that wasn't acceptable. Jade would never accept the fact that she was dying. She'd fight on to the bitter end, similar to just the day before. "Don't talk like that, Pisces. Don't give in, don't get give them what they want," she said. "We lived yesterday, didn't we? We'll live again." And she had to make sure that happened. Jade didn't want to fail Pisces like she had failed Zenia.

Then she lunged for the Mutt.

---

(Jade attacks Uraeus [Wadjet] with sword)
Nels6bBNW3sword
(1031 -- Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage)

[/blockquote][/font]
[/div][/div][/div]

Table made by Puppy

sword

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

There was a difference, he decided, between knowing he was going to die, and knowing he was going to die soon. No amount of contemplation, of being certain it was coming, could prepare him for this: holographic metal ripping him to pieces, faces of the foe twisted in contempt, hope beginning to light within them like fire.

Even if it wasn't confirmed, he knew it in that moment. Death. It felt intimate to him, a pulse of pain through his arm and a crack within his jaw that was so loud that it echoed within him. He was scared to even try talking, remembering all too well how he felt when the now-healing wound on his neck had terrified him. This was different, though. This hurt, and it kept hurting, and no matter how much he willed it to stop, it didn't.

He fumbled backward, tripping on his heels and spitting out a puddle of blood. There was a cut on the inside of his cheek where the weapon had bounced off of his face; he could feel strings of his own flesh getting caught in his teeth and between that and the overwhelming taste of blood, it was all he could do to keep himself from vomiting. Forget keeping his composure.

He breathed in through his nose, his vision clouded by tears. He wanted to say something like help but the pain wouldn't let him. He swung his weapon, unwilling to stop trying. But the truth was that there was no target in sight in that moment. If anything, it was his last-ditch effort to clear Zenia and her bloodthirsty brother away from him, if only for long enough for him to stand back onto his feet.

[ jj attacks pisces, morning star ]
3ynBmb6wT5spiked blunt
[ result ]

spiked blunt