brains and brawn | {the boys v mutts day two}

[dars]

This tree, this specific tree, is my tree. I do not know why, which is rather odd- we owls are a wise kind, I do believe. But I have known it since the dawning of my existence. Before I knew my mother, before I knew my flight, I knew this tree. I knew its branches even as they changed and widened and split and splintered and snapped completely. I knew this tree. It was my tree.

Even now, when all that remains is its ghostly shell, I know it is mine, because my shell is the same.

No one who does not already know this information will get near me. Not for long, not without a fight.

I hoot at the imposters. Snow-coated and covered in snow, my wings like ice and my eyes icy blue. They could be friends, but I doubt it so very so. It's been so long since I've seen anything other than foe. It's just been this: my shell of a tree and my shell of a me.

I hoot as a warning call, but they persist even still. Fair enough, I spread my snowy wings and I flutter down to the hill. Right there in front of them, my beak wide with dare. Perhaps they do not know my kind, my icy eyes glare. I open up my beak, surely they don't actually expect me to speak. But I choose the boy with eyes cold as mine, and the words begin to leak:

"Emission Continuously Absorbed. Every color of the rainbow, straight to gay, old to young, thin to wide, tall to short. Everything in-between. The scale of one's being. The decider of one's whole. What am I?"

( SAGE ASKS RENE TO SOLVE HER RIDDLE )

The cold around me is colder just for me. Hmph. I am my own flurry, my own fury as well. They call me king of the arctic- HA! Kings are weak: old and feeble and fed by those weaker still. Kings rely on people for power. My power is mine, mine, all mine. Look at these arms. Look at these legs. I am not the king of the arctic, I am the owner of the cold. I exhale and the air agrees, fogs of it floating around my frozen fur. Everything I see is mine to own and hold and touch.

And as I dig out a hole for my next meal, I hear a voice sudden and shrill. Just over that hill. Hupmh. Tricky, tricky, those pesky humans. Always trying to get around me, always so dumb to start speaking too soon. Look at these ears. I can hear everything. I growl, low and in throat, bang my fists on the ground until I've smashed through all the snow and all that is left if frozen dirt. And Then I climb to the top of the hill, catch my breath and SCREAM. My meal. My territory. My owl. My arena.

My humans.

I bolt down the hill, a streak of white lightning cracking down on them. Owner of the cold. My biceps are huge. Owner of it all.

( BRUTUS ATTACKS JACYNTH, KNIFE )
|VvmYL4_40knife
[ 2073 -- Severed Right Ear -- 8.0 damage ]

knife

[rook]

ÆSAHÆTTR

I sleep like the dead.

The spectres that stalked us in the snow it turns out were nothing more than a pair of scared kids who held fear in their eyes much tighter than the weapons in their hands. Their threats, much like my chest, hollow. Since then they have lurked around this makeshift camp that Jacynth and myself have assembled, not quite attacking, not quite dropping their guard and joining us. Two pairs separated by the faintest of lines.

A silent truce.

I dream of Elena and Glasia. The former has wings, and shakes her head as I declare myself The Godkiller to the hundreds of faceless bodies below me. You're a liar. You are Rene Rallis. And the bodies vanish, replaced by the dolls on her floor and her mother screaming at her. The blood on her carpet, the knives in my back.

Glasia watches from afar, a ghost in the window, a shadow in the hallway. I try to follow her through this broken house, around corridors and up staircases, through into bedrooms that don't exist in the real world. In my world.

I think of how different Elena and Glasia are, the compass and the hourglass, complete opposites with me, a bloody knife of a corpse stood in the middle of them, dragging blood through the kitchen. I turn a corner and she points to a door. Devoid of free-will I walk barefoot on the soft velvet and place my completely healed right hand on the door handle, and open it.

And then I wake up.

I'm blinded by the sheer white, and it takes me a few seconds to adjust to the faint blots of colour trespassing on this great canvas. Our two attackers, Caleb and Andorra, stand on the perimeter of the camp, already awake. Jacynth searches through her supplies, making final checks before setting out for our first full day in the arena.

It's only now that I realise that I am holding a knife in my palm. Curious. It was not there when I went to sleep.

Jacynth offers me some plants she found, and trusting her I take them and stuff them in my satchel.

"Thanks" I say afterwards, wondering if it's an act of charity or if she is keeping me alive for personal gain. I expect the answer is not so black and white.

"Gotta keep our energy up. The gamemakers aren't gonna let us rest for too long." She notes, swinging her bag over he shoulder as I clear up the rest of our camp and follow like I have been since the gong sounded.

The other two tail us - not close enough to stab us in the backs, but far enough away so that we cannot hear what they are saying. Somewhere in between. For now at least they are not a danger.

We approach a cluster of pale ash trees that eject from the snow like daggers pointing angrily at a grey sky they will never understand, let alone break through. A bird flutters down from a high branch and settles near me - an owl. I've never seen one this close.

Curiously, like something not from this world, it begins to speak.

"Emission Continuously Absorbed. Every color of the rainbow, straight to gay, old to young, thin to wide, tall to short. Everything in-between. The scale of one's being. The decider of one's whole. What am I?"

A riddle? I stare unblinking at the sentinel, who's head is cocked awaiting response.

Colour being absorbed continuously, like all the world stacked atop each other, layered so thinly are bleeding into one - a photograph in water that dissipates into phosphorescence. There I see what he speaks about, everything in-between. I'd draw a knife through it if I could, separate the thousand different versions of myself and pull out the answer.

Straight to gay, old to young, thin to wide, tall to short, Elena to Glasia, charity to greed, trust to doubt. None of it is binary.

"A spectrum."

[ghosty]

i give you all a boy could give you

Sleep, that's all that I wanted, but never came. The cold hurt like hunger pains, constant, always in my fuckin' head. It was colder than Nine was, that was for sure. If Vati told me this was hell from his book, I'd have believed him, no questions asked. We weren't safe here, any of us. Thoughts of the other three cracking down in the middle, into a fight between everyone. That was what kept tired eyes from closing for more than a blink, even that being longer than I was comfortable with. After all, we are meant to be killing each other, limping away from fight to fight, bleached snow fading into red with every passing day. 

Caleb woke first, nearer to me than Rene and Jacynth. I saw Belle in her, her name stinging inside my skull, as it always did. Her eyes staring at me, burned into a place where I can never forget it. Whatever happens here. We weren't a threat to them, whatever Caleb or I did, in truth. Rene's fingers showed all I needed to know for him, the way he avoided Caleb in instinct. Jacynth was from Four; they were not afraid of us. I wondered what Belle thought of me at this moment, holding a knife, hand white in cold and in tension from holding it all night curled into a fist. 

Was I turnin' into the monster she saw in me?

Rene was the last one awake, the voices of Jacynth and him offering respite from the howl of the wind. The two of them quickly gathered their small layout of things grabbed from the middle of the bloodbath, into backpacks before they set off ahead of Caleb and I, away from where we settled down. Jacynth was right, that the gamemakers wouldn't let us stay still forever, always on the move until we can't move anymore.

They moved ahead, out of earshot from the wind somehow growing louder, howling through the trees. "You trust 'em?", head nodding towards them out in front. "I just don't fuckin' know any more, y'know?" They had their guard up, less so than mine. We all did, I hoped, else we'd have seen faces filling the sky, the sound of cannons cutting through the wind, carried through the sky like it always did when we were forced to watch it on big screens back in Nine. 

We walked, into a small clearing, as a bird slowly flew down towards Rene, who stopped as it grew closer and-- spoke?  "Emission Continuously Absorbed. Every color of the rainbow, straight to gay, old to young, thin to wide, tall to short. Everything in-between. The scale of one's being. The decider of one's whole. What am I?" Rene stopped, before I started to move closer to the the two of them. The gamemakers, doin' what they do best, messing with things that should've been alone. Like what Belle says. "A spectrum," Rene's words knocked her voice out of my head as fast as it appeared. 

Things are never as simple as they first appeared, the sound of heavy footsteps starting to shake the frozen ground under our feet. "We've got to go, now," I called out to the other three, and reaching out with knife outstretched in my hand. "And," as I step slowly closer towards Rene, "I don't trust this fuckin' thing at all."

As the words finish in a grunt from the force, I bring the knife down in an arc towards the bird.

ANDORRA SING

[ andorra attacks owl with knife ]
LIBRwPa4o9knife
[ 2022 -- Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5 damage ]

knife

[Tom]

Her brother wouldn't hesitate in killing them. Blood coated weapons and two bodies behind him, Alex would have taken their lives in a heartbeat. He would have watched their lives slip away from their eyes and danced in the ashes of what once was living, but Jacynth wasn't her brother. She was herself; a girl who's used to being on the edge of untrustworthy and broken. Jacynth Voclain didn't trust others, but hearing Nine's words had stopped her hand holding the knife, made her stare silently with a glare into Nine and Five's eyes until she dropped it, letting them survive. A silent truce made between them; hanging over an edge of a cliffside, waiting for the wave to finally come crashing into it.

Andorra Sing and Caleb Genesis could be useful. Alex would have taken them down, but numbers were better in the arena than not. A sigh falls from her lips as she stands down, focusing on the night that falls in a silent wind of snow and ice. A chill already taking over that's surely to make their bodies ache in the morning. Sleep wouldn't come to her in the chill of the night. A heavy truce in the air still filling with tension as night continues, Jacynth holding her ground as she stands on the edge of the camp, comfortable in the uncomfortability.

The one thing her father had taught her.

She knew how to stand along the edges of danger and pretend she was fine.

Gloves and the cozy jacket keeping her warmer than before, keeping out the icy chill of her own creation. A silence fills her as she keeps watch knowing Caleb is also up. Trust wasn't to be made; not in a place filled with icicle shards and broken snow patches. They didn't have to get along, but Jacynth didn't want to kill them. Not yet. Nine and Five could prove themselves as useful in her climb to the top of this winter wonderland. A silence fills her as the night continues. A pointless conversation with only one answer given. Tribute insurance seemed like a pointless interest for her. Jacynth wasn't planning on dying. Caleb continues with whatever she does in that binder of hers.

"I'm not gonna need it."

Jacynth wasn't going to die.

Night passes into morning; she's left tired from a night of staying on edge.

Jacynth Voclain wouldn't die in her sleep.

She refused to die like a weakling.

Looking through her supplies of mostly just large javelins, she preps for the day. Snow covered grounds with holes expanding before them; grass frozen away with a chill to them. Naturally unnatural from what she can tell, but realistic enough to frighten regular tributes in the arena. Fingers stop shuffling when Rene comes around; sleep in his veins. A knife in his hand; a smile to her lips as her amusement of Eight continues. Silently, she remembers the plants she had gathered through the night, remembering they were edible and would provide some source of energy to keep them moving.

Her fingers extend a bundle out to Rene, not daring to watch for too long as he takes it. "Thanks." As thoughtless as the response is, something in her stomach churns at the word. A simple thanks throwing her off for a moment, knowing she's never been thanked for anything. Make a few poisons for the family business and no one cares enough to thank her for keeping their home running. Her father had never said the word in any of it's forms. Always a demand for perfection and how she could do better than that. For a moment, she stares into the distance, pretending to be watching Caleb and Andorra.

"Gotta keep our energy up. The gamemakers aren't gonna let us rest for too long." The shrug of her shoulders fills her head with pointless thoughts about home, so she does the only thing she can to starve them. Throwing on the pack, she pushes forward, knowing Rene will follow. Nine and Five might, but she could care less about them right now. She needed to be away from the thoughts of home. Her black eye certainly would be a reminder of her father, the throbbing being no longer there. An easy thing to forget now with the day passing by them.

Mornings were always her favorite time of day. The time where everything was just waking up and the sun barely dipped over the edge of the horizon. The sand would crunch underneath her feet with a calmness that made her forget about the screaming and the violent outbursts of the evening before. Poison no longer in her veins as the waves would lap up on the shore, but Jacynth wasn't there. The snow crunching was almost the same sound, but there was no waves or freedom here. She's locked away once more, but this time by her own doing.

Trees break through the snow like a gleaming beacon of something living other than the frozen grass surrounding them. It's an eerie silence until the owl flies down into a branch with it's large eyes and careful movements. Expectations of the bird going away as it speaks in words that are understandable to them. A riddle from it's lips built up by a sea of tension over them.

"Emission Continuously Absorbed. Every color of the rainbow, straight to gay, old to young, thin to wide, tall to short. Everything in-between. The scale of one's being. The decider of one's whole. What am I?"

Color doesn't exist in snow. It's white purity sitting amongst their footsteps, tensions growing with a certain quietness as the riddle rings in her ears. Everything in-between. The scale of one's being. Everything is on a spectrum of black and white. Everything bleeding somewhere in the center where the gray lives; hearts no longer red, but gray with the pointlessness of weak and strong that people force them to believe.

"A spectrum."

Rene surprises her.

It's not the first time, but it certainly is the first time she's snapped her head around to look at him for a moment and truly see something more than a useless boy with missing fingers. For a moment, she stares with a curiosity in her veins. Andorra breaks it with the words upon his lips, knife glittering a silver color. "We've got to go, now," Eyes glancing back to him for a moment as he continues. "And," He moves towards Rene. "I don't trust this fuckin' thing at all." The knife glitters with a silver before it's coated in a crimson against the white snow filled area.

A spectrum of trust and the lack of it.

A scream from a beast she's only seen in replays of games. A bestial sound that echoes along her spine as she raises her own knife, flipping the blade out with a razor edge. The furry beast rushes them, loudly with a roar in it's step. The crunching of snow is surprising as the power behind the beast comes forward against her, a sharp pain ringing out in her ear. A soft crunch of something hitting the ground as she knew it was her ear going into the white snow ruining the perfection like she always did.

Poison in her veins as she touches where her ear was for a moment. Hot red liquid covering her fingers as she pulls away with a pain that echoes along her body. Anger boiling beneath her skin as she pulls the knife back. A storm brewing in her heart as her mind is blinded by the rage of losing a piece of her. No one gets to take away any piece of her. She's already lost enough in this world.

She didn't need to lose anymore.

Perfection wasn't apart of the spectrum.

It never has existed.

Jacynth Voclain was the storm.

The girl who would come back with the scars of her own creation.

"We've got bigger fish to fry than that fucking owl."

[Jacynth Voclain attacks Brutus the Yeti; Knife]
8XU7SlIp2iknife
(Shallow Cut on Back 4.0)

knife

[Deleted]

There's something to be said of the middle ground, at least. Caleb can't sleep, can't try to -- Andy's struggling to keep his eyes shut and she's struggling to keep her mouth closed. Legs shaking, pulled to her chest under the coat. It's foxholes; south? That's the way she ran, because the cornucopia's mouth floods south and she ran along its words. River rafting on the flood of panic, and here she is. 

Alive, and isn't that good enough? 

Counting her blessings, Andy's got a grip on her life and keeping her head above water. Flood line up to her neck and its all so tense, the fear of staying alive. She doesn't want to die, she knows that much. It isn't about winning, being a victor, killing. Just the process of counting her breaths, every shivering one. Exhaling into the den of her coat trying to stay warm as the sun falls down. No deaths, just new friends. 

That's bad, maybe. She wants to curl into the fox hole and sleep the week away; pray no one hears her live so loudly and maybe they'll all drop dead. But she can't move, not with the career watching her -- Jacynth. There's a list in her binder that she's memorized over the last two weeks, every tribute that has and hasn't signed insurance and this is that one career. Blonde, smart; something something district four. Sirens hide in the depths and Caleb watches her as she watches back. 

Andy says they're better together, Caleb knows it's a fight she can't win. A clock that ticks, and every second Jacynth is alive is a second stolen from Caleb. That's how these things work, there's three people sleeping next to her that all have better odds; Patricia knows that. Present tense because she lived and Caleb doesn't have a second choice besides finding that way out. 

The weak link. 

There's always a way out. Cut somebody to size, "what's your family like?" It's wide eyes and words spoken into her knees, "if you want, my family works in insurance, I can sign you up for it so that if you die, some money goes back to your's?" She wants so bad not to listen to the realist in her ear, one shoulder has Patricia and Lysander, and the other has Bambi. There's someone who doesn't want to die, and there's another who's convinced they can all live in the end. 

That there's another way out, it isn't so binary. Something about a spectrum, "I 'm not going to need it." 

"Oh. 'Kay," Caleb tries to bite her tongue, roll her eyes back into the dark quiet. She never realized how lifeless the wilderness is. The wind whispers as it cuts into her red nose, the dead wild. Her eyes are heavy and stomach empty already; she misses dinner. Thinking about food just makes it worse but she can't stop thinking about her grandma's jambalaya or her brother's pancakes. Like she'll wake up, and it'll be breakfast morning again with turkey links and Bambi's fucked up cat waffles. 

Instead, it's Andy. She hears Joan's voice in his as he groans awake like it's just another inconvenience. Jacynth has the boy from eight and Caleb treats to her own, night watch nothing more than hunger pains. Andy is not Joan, he never will be -- Lysander says it over and over again in her sleep. He isn't family, he isn't your friend don't be stupid, but it's all she can cling to. Someone she can trust. 

Then call me stupid. Call her an idiot for feeling safe, rubbing eyebags; she's already making mistakes. Caleb imagines them sitting around a table, watching her with no items, no plan, no courage. A knife in her hand that she isn't even holding right, she's making a mistake just by trusting Andy, never the less two others stronger than her. The binder held to her chest, left arm pulled out of its sleeve and the right dangling with the knife. 

Andy in front of her, and the other two in front of them, "you trust 'em?" 

"Nope." 

"I just don't fuckin' know any more, y'know?"

"I watched Jacynth all night, she doesn't trust us worth a damn." She chews on the parka string as she talks, "and personally, I don't trust her as far as I can throw her." Rolling her eyes, looking straight ahead again just to make sure they didn't vanish. Not a single thing to eat between the four of them, no supplies to worry about them stealing at least. Just a frozen frontier, a girl and her new white brother, and another girl who could kill them both. 

And then... the other guy, who Caleb has no notes on. District Eight in a nutshell, unpredictable. "And I can't throw either of them. So." 

She follow them however far south they go, and then she'll go even further with Andy. South to the ridge and past that, to the forcefield, and then even more south from there. The two of them will live, and Jacynth will feel sorry for not listening to her -- that's the plan. And all it takes is a strong mind to put it in motion, yeah? 

Marsh will find her at some point, he'll stay alive from sponsorships alone and find her on the outskirts of society. With the dogs and sleds and snowmen; Andy's sister will come up somewhere and Joan will find them too. And so will the Yeti. 

And the spectrum. 

There's blood on the grey ground already, Caleb struggling not to break her ankles running across the foxholes-

"JACYNTH, HOLY SHIT-"

She pulls up the fourth, the other three do not hesitate and she can't stop herself. Jacynth's ear falls to the ground in gore and Caleb's empty gut churns; she's new to this. Fighting to survive, this isn't a dog bite. Scrapes and bruises and she's used to fighting just goddamn concrete from falling off her rollerskates, and here she is on uneven ground as Andy pulls alongside Jacynth. They fight at eighteen and somewhere in that three year distance, she holds her knife in a shaky grip. Dropping the binder and trying just to focus; running was so easy yesterday, when did it all stop? 

Just fucking do it, Caleb. 

Patricia is watching. 

[ Caleb swings at the Yeti ]

lt7HFh72|Cknife

[ 2042 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage ]

"Shit, shit, I-" she's gripping the knife harder than the trainers taught her. Panicking trying to duck behind the yeti, not to be caught in its sights. Her ankle buckles as she runs over another foxhole, losing balance and swinging wildly, blindly. Jacynth is watching, Patricia, Lysander, Bambi, Joan; "Jacynth!" She's panicking as she smells blood, fresh. 

First and only, she has to be able to do this, right? There's a fury in the mist and she feels guilty watching Jacynth bleed, guilty in the way it reassures her. Frightens her. It weakens a career but she can only imagine what would happen if the Yeti had grip on her like so, what she would lose. 

The pain. 

"I'm trying!" 

[ accuracy against Yeti ]
knife
[ 2199 -- Block -- 0.0 damage ] 

As hard as she can, standing between the holes in the middle ground. Jacynth bleeds and Caleb is useless to help; the knife cuts nothing but fur and she holds her hand over her mouth as if to keep quiet again. It takes one turn for everything to go wrong, one more mistake. The room for error is getting more and more cluttered.

"Shit."

Okay, self, let's try a little harder next time.

( griffin! )

knife·knife

[dars]

The human knows the answer to my riddle and I ruffle my feathers with pleasure.

"Spectrum. Spectrum. Spectrum."

A to Z, every color- spectrum. That was the trick, I am a tricky old owl and he's a smart little human. I nod my head to him.

"You are permitted to carry on-" I am not thrilled about it. My tree and me, that's all I have and all I will ever be. I do not love the idea of sharing with this clever human and his allies, but my cards are forced and my wings are tied.

I am seconds from flying back to my perch when his friend with the icy eyes take a swing at me. I manage to avoid the brunt of the blow with my big bird claws, retracting them into myself so that he only just catches one of my legs. I hoot in anger.

Peace in times of war is a pipe dream, truly. And now here we have an example: I gave them permission and they gave me pain.

Pesky children. Pesky, indeed. I'll have his head for this, pluck his pretty eyes from his pretty face.

( SAGE ATTACKS ANDORRA, KNIFE )
XfD|VkJOP_knife
[ block ]

I rip her ear off and my laughter comes out as a growl. Puny little human, the smallest of her group I would say. And her coat is all white; she will be the first to freeze and the easiest to kill, or so I think.

Until her friend tries to fight me. Did she even see my biceps? Was she not looking when I pulled off her friend's ear? I have been called dumb, but come on. I hunch down on all fours so that I am face to face with the one who swings and misses. Her hair is much darker; she looks to eat better as well. Yet also, she would be so easy to kill. I smell her and my stomach growls; it has been hours since I have had a good meal and, let's face it: with fighting capabilities like these, the humans would all be dead soon enough, anyway. I figure I can kill them all now and then have several meals. I think that would be good indeed.

I scream so loud that her fur blows around her face.

And then I raise my paw and attack.

( BRUTUS ATTACKS CALEB, KNIFE )
knife
[ 2087 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage ]

knife·knife

[rook]

ÆSAHÆTTR

In the dream I had both my hands, and like gears turning in a grandfather clock they worked at opening doors and stepping through into the folding worlds beyond me. It was like moving through a pop-up book where all the pages were pressed so closely together that you could hear the words breathing on the other side, and yet it all sprang to life as you stepped through a door, turned another page, and kept the story going.

More of it comes back to me as the day bleaches my tired memory, burning away at all the things I buried, and in new light I see my visions clearer. Elena handing me the knife, her hands taking my fingers and wrapping them around the handle, pressing so that I would grip the blade tightly. Never let it go.

When I woke, I had a knife. I brought it through with me, from the land of my dreams to this cold reality. It travelled the barrier. I feel slightly sick.

All this time - I was right? The visions, the voices, the other worlds. It was all real. Here's proof, in my hand. I walked from that reality and back into this one and brought with me a knife with which I will carve my destiny - red-tipped and eternal. My hand shakes and I can't steady my breathing, but I grip my impossible knife tightly in my hand and I don't let it go, because even though it's not from this world, it's the only real thing I know.

There is a tremendous roar that grows and booms across the snowscape, hitting the dunes of the foxholes and rebounding back at us. I look away from the bird and over to the others, and to the great white beast cascading towards them.

What in all of creation and worlds beyond is that thing?

I grip my knife tighter, my head tilting to look at the creature closer. Some form of great white ape with fur long and stinking and masking it's features. The others ready themselves, and the boy - Andorra, runs to me.

"We've got to go, now," He yells, holding his knife all awkward and wrong and all the while I think of how if he were in the alleyways with me I'd carve him open like a festive turkey. I blink twice, staring into his soul for a second, and I see both his fear and his courage bleeding into each-other, and above it all determination.

"And, I don't trust this fuckin' thing at all." He steps forwards and brings his knife down.

"No!" I shout, for the first time in what feels like years, I shout.

My chest drops and despite his awkward stance and unconvincing demeanour, his strike is true and forceful and it's going to wound the owl - this peaceful, intelligent creature who through no fault of it's own has found itself in this world as a sentinel, a guardian, and a protector of the woods.

His blade slices the owl across it's leg, and it cries out, maimed. But alive.

Destiny has carried me like a paper kite dancing in a gulf stream, and I've gone with the updraft, ready to float to my inevitable fate, and all the while I've been accepting of it, anticipating it, almost looking forward to it. I have been calm.

And now I am not calm.

"Why would you do that?" I demand, and he takes a wary step backwards.

"Listen, what else was I supposed to fuckin' do, huh? Let it explode or something?" He tries to cover himself, and he doesn't even sound convinced by his own answer.

He panicked. That's what happened. He was scared and he panicked and he is a fool. A fool who I do not have time with.

There's a yell, and Caleb is running, the beast is on them and the first few drops of blood have tainted this hallowed white ground already. It's right on top of them, swinging huge tree trunk arms, it's guttural roar more chilling than the wind, and maybe they are going to die.

"You are as empty as you are stupid, get out of my way." I shove him in the shoulder with my elbow and march towards the beast, towards my fate. To die in battle, to have my blood paint this white canvas, there certainly are worse fates than that.

I toss my blade in the air lightly, catching it backhand before flipping it back to forehand grip. It still feels alien in my weaker left hand, but a knife is a knife, a yeti is flesh and blood, and all living things bleed.

In the end, that's the only truth I really live by.



[rene attacks the yeti, knife]
BPbFToZqOpknife
[Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage]

knife

[ghosty]

i give you all a boy could give you

The pained call of the bird as it tried to fly away, blade barely catching it's leg filled the air, joining with the roars of the yeti. I was the monster that Belle thought of me, the roar of Rene's voice in my ear stung louder than the frozen air ever did. The anger that rose in his voice, it scared me, more than anything, like a wild animal craving it's first meal, inhuman. "Why would you do that?" the anger seething from every word, as the blood drips slowly onto the snow. 

The words die on my tongue, frozen like every fuckin' thing in this arena, like it always would be here. I was a part of these games, in this howling wind. What else could I say? Cold blood boiled into lava, knife shaking in my hands, as I feel my legs take a step back and another. Away from Rene. He scared me more than that yeti, blood-stained fur and all, Jacynth's blood matting into frozen clumps of fur. 

"Listen, what else was I supposed to fuckin'  do, huh? Let it explode or something?" The words stumble out, adrenaline rattled throat calling out words that I didn't believe in. Belle's words filled my mouth but I couldn't let them out. Because I'm a monster. Vati, I could see, doing his actions in my head, whispering quiet words over that little book on my behalf; he always did that a lot.

"You are as empty as you are stupid, get out of my way." He pushed his elbow against my shoulder, knocking me another step further away from him, as he threw his knife into the air twice. A show off to the world that he was better. It was a threat to me. Facing the yeti-- I wouldn't stop him killin' himself to that fuckin' thing, towering over the lot of us. The flapping of wings called louder than the beating of my chest, of the alarms ringing like a drum in my head. 

I turned in time to stop it taking a chunk out of my arm, the grip of the knife wavering as it caught that instead. I swipe back out at the bird as it flew away, hoping to catch something from the air. 

ANDORRA SING

[ andorra attacks owl with knife ]
euY5jS6n|aknife
[ 2009 -- Deep Gash on Neck -- 10.0 damage ]

knife

[Tom]

"JACYNTH, HOLY SHIT-"

Blood dripping down her cheek with the poison of her own tongue; mixing with the scars of the past. The sound of a drum beating through her ear with the sound of the winter chill breaking through her blood and adding to the pain. Gritting her teeth, she stands tall above it all. Hair flowing behind her as the snow drips into a reddish pink that glows with the cold. A scar of what's been lost and given to her; a new scar to add to her numerous scars that linger in her bones and leaves a chill colder than the arena's own cold. Eyes glancing from her weapon to her fingertips to the yeti's own fur. A mixture of pain and anger blossoming to life upon her grip that's turning white with the bubbling anger of her own distaste bleeding into her skin.

Blood comes forth as the bladed end shreds a small cut into the yeti's fur leaving a new redness to the crunching snow below. A pool of their lives dripping heavily into the snow, another reminder of what these games meant. Pulling back was the smart move; Alex would have continued to pressure the beast, but staying out of the striking range is what she was hoping for. A moment to take in the scene and reassess what she needed to do. Mind screaming at a hundred miles per hour as she searches her brain for any information about yetis. Large, intimidating, and creatures of the cold. Great killers and one of the stronger of the regular mutts that they gamemakers throw at tributes.

A yeti shouldn't be a problem for them.

They've got the numbers.

"Shit, shit, I-" Eyes glancing to Caleb with a calmness as she breathes in the chilling air, assessing what the girl was trying to do. A foxhole catching her foot as she doesn't seem to strike the yeti. "Jacynth!" Her name being said from someone she doesn't trust's lips sets her on edge. The ringing of her name through her ear as the sound is muffled by drying blood and dripping blood that falls from her head. Jacynth knew it was a horrible pain, but she's certain it looks worse than it feels. Head wounds always were. Cleaning up her brother's head wounds had always been a task of wanting to puke and letting the worry for one of the only people who she trusted blending together.

"I'm trying!"

Trying wasn't good enough.

Jacynth had underestimated Caleb. The strength to challenge both Rene and herself had been commendable, but watching her swing and miss the yeti once more almost makes her want to scream back at her to try harder. A second flashes as the last word leaves Caleb's lips. A sigh follows from her throat as the mutts go on the offensive. The yeti screaming with the guttural cry that rings heavily through her head. A pain ringing louder and louder as it strikes Caleb barely. Jacynth's own fingers tingling from the want to just push it into the beast's eyes, but she didn't have an opening.

"Why would you do that?" The boys start their fighting. "Listen, what else was I supposed to fuckin' do, huh? Let it explode or something?" Andorra wasn't wrong. Jacynth had a feeling the owl was apart of the gamemakers' plan to have them collide with someone else. A stepping stone to what they really want, but right now, she knew the yeti was more of the problem. The boys could argue over an owl any other day, but right now, there was a big yelling beast; which had taken her ear, but none of them would care about that. Jacynth Voclain knew she was the career here which meant they'd expect her to take it with a smile.

"You are as empty as you are stupid, get out of my way."

For a moment, there's a silent pause. Rene moves forward tossing his knife up and catching it like she would do in the early mornings on the beaches where the sun would rise up with a new day. Dreams of a new beginning drifting along the ocean's waves. The smell of salt restarting the poison in her bloodline; anger bubbling away as she lets the chill take over to let her mind absorb everything she could. Build up the walls she would need for the next twenty four hours. The strike is true as it hits, like the rising sun, she notices a moment of opportunity as she can hear Nine strike somewhere else.

Words fumble from her lips as she pulls the knife around to her backhand, knowing it'd rip more that before. Pain is what she wanted. Jacynth wanted to watch the yeti's eyes stare into her own as she caused the same pain to the beast as she felt. Break down another creature like her father would break her down. Make someone else bleed for a chance, so she can breath for once and not feeling like she's drowning under everyone else's wishes.

"Caleb!"

Rushing forward, she lets the chill hit her ear, bleeding with a red into the snow, coating her cheek and neck with a red river of blood. A reminder of the pain that still echoes through her skin to remind her that she's alive. A reminder to show that she's stronger than the past and can burn a path of her own past towards a better future. Silently, she takes notes of weak spots for the creature. Neck, eyes, stomach, chest. Limbs wouldn't help as much with all the fur and the sheer size of the beast. Jacynth had underestimated her allies, so she needed to take over. Let the career her brother believed was inside her take over; a deep breath leaves her throat as she continues.

"Aim for the head or neck. Keep your balance."

Silver gleams in the white snow as red coats her face; she's never been one for letting her anger take over, but she's missing a god damn ear and this beast was roaring at them.

"And hit the fucker for ripred fucking sake!"

The numbers were there.

Blood was already on their blades.

A red storm was coming, the anger bubbling up in Jacynth's heart.

She lets it rage on.

[Jacynth Voclain attack Brutus the Yeti; Knife]
zW3jJtIjQqknife
(Deep Gash on Left Bicep 8.0 + 1 Blades)

knife

[Deleted]

Blood burns in the dry cold, her fear sinks in her gut to her toes as the yeti turns its head to her. Monstrous things that only exist when you close your eyes; Jacynth tells her name. As a command, as a response, as a warning — Siren’s call and it falls in droplets into the snow. Hot in its wake and she screams more from shock than from pain. As if this is it, the moment she dies, she doesn’t run or rebound, Caleb only screams. 

It slashes her neck and Jacynth hits back, harder than she ever did. 

Caleb holds her left hand to her neck, wincing and groaning as she swallows the pain. This is when they need her- shaky legs, the boys holding each other’s back and these two girls barely able to look each other in the eye. Jacynth is telling her how to mimic her, but she barely has a grip on the knife as she wearies her neck wound. Keep your balance, Caleb. 

Aim for the neck, the head. It’s so much taller than her, shaky knees and uncertain grip — how? How on earth, beastly and undetermined. Caleb has no pain tolerance, has no training; barely has any idea what to do here besides to listen to Andy, and now Jacynth. To work with her, knife in hand and just hit the fucking thing. 

Easy as that.

[ attacks sexy lil yeti ]
UeUiTzEepvknife
[ 2098 - 9.5 +1 mutt tamer ]

She feels the blood on her hand burn her, the way it warms her skin like caution. Crooked and jagged carving into its belly from such an uneven stab, nothing but panic in the way her good hand shakes. This thing’ll kill her before she can kill it, but hell if she won’t put a number in trying. ”I don’t know what I’m doing,” she yells it, probably screams it in a war cry to Jacynth. There’s blood and pain and the yeti roars, she backs up and runs quicker than she can think before getting hit again.

”But fuck that thing!”

[/i]


knife

[dars]

They are afraid of me. They should be. My pecs are things of legend. My glutes could crack a walnut. I could, in theory, pick each of them up and snap them like twigs. It would be so easy, but that’s just it: that would be too easy. I do not want to be fed: I want to hunt. I want to feel them squirm and see them bleed by my buff claws and mega big teeth. I want them to think they have a chance and then remind them that NO! I am the alpha, you are my game pieces. You move where I want you to and only when I say so. You run and hide if you want. But you always end up eaten and I end up picking my teeth with your bones and stuffing leftovers into the snow for later when I’m feeling snackish.

How dare them actually do a good job of fighting back, though. I do not think I have ever had to work this hard for my meal. It should excite me, probably, but it doesn’t. I don’t like a challenge, I just like being the best because of my superior buffness and good looks. I don’t work for things. People fear me enough to give them to me. I decide I want a toothpick right now, and their tiny little not-muscular fingers look perfect for the job.

I snarl, drop down to all fours so that my quads are nice and flexed in the golden sunlight. And then I lunge.

( BRUTUS ATTACKS RENE, KNIFE )
XFuOhaDbEYknife
[ 2175 -- Severed Finger on Left Hand -- 8.5 damage ]

knife

[rook]

ÆSAHÆTTR

Although my balance awkward and my left hand unnatural in holding the blade, my strike is true and honest, and I draw a line across the beast that beats red and burns into it's white flesh. I take another step and throw myself forwards into a roll, quickly changing direction again, kicking up short sprays of ice as I dart left and right, light on my feet, absent of mind.

Sometimes I am sick of this world. In the times before I fought for it, wore the injustices like badges of honour to become a martyr for. I dreamt of that, and that my death would mean enough for things to change, or something along those lines - rising from the shadows to die in the light. I suppose I would have enjoyed the concept of being reaped back then. I would have savoured the chance to be sacrificed, a ragged effigy burning brightly on a thousand television screens in the name of tradition.

But there’s a bittersweet tranquility to be found within life’s adversities. The rawness of your breath, the blood like fire in your veins. Knowing that I will return into the ground from which I was reborn, to make new life again. Part of something bigger. The struggle, the pain, that is life in its purest form.

I will be reused again.

The beast catches me, and as I try to dart away, my left hand trails, and I feel searing, burning pain. The Yeti's teeth are red, and the index finger of my left hand hangs from it's mouth, dripping and fresh. The burning shoots up my arm, and I shake, staring down at my severed finger. I drop the knife.

From ten fingers, to five. Down to four.

With each passing moment destiny seeks to make me more and more useless. I expect I'll be nothing left but a bleeding limbless sack of bones and organs, somehow still breathing and alive, cursed to remain in this plane of existence until I've suffered every waking second of adversity in store for me. When will I have fate's blessing to finally die? Is this not enough? When will it be enough?

I don't scream, I don't cry, I just stare at what was until ten seconds ago my good hand. I have no good hand now. I barely have a hand.

It seeps red, a spider's web spreading across my palm. It shakes violently as the adrenaline thunders through me, my ribs a canyon around which they reverberate, and become a storm inside of me.

With four fingers I pick up the knife, and the Godkiller awakens.



[rene attacks the yeti, knife]
4uHAuEkTRQknife
[Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage]

knife

[ghosty]

i give you all a boy could give you

filler to allow allies to post
- reaction to killing something, falling into the snow yada yada
- blood in snow again, allies losing things
- fear of the yeti, turning to fight it with the rest of the alliance, hoping that he doesnt get in the way
- hopes to show rene/jacynth he is worth keeping around

ANDORRA SING

[ andorra attacks yeti with knife ]
hYzo0HnpnMknife
[ 2164 -- Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damage ]

knife

[Tom]

Filler:
-Jacynth notices her knife cut deep and is proud of herself
-Watches Caleb actually hit hard and says "I guess the stomach works too."
-Watches Rene lose another finger, this time to the yeti.
-Sighs in frustration
-"Let's just end this."

[Jacynth Voclain attack Brutus the Yeti; Knife]
29|_BVz4NOknife
(Shallow Cut on Right Thigh 3.5)

knife

[Deleted]

Hog body hog body we go swinging

[ attacks sexy lil yeti ]
XMya9OY5DKknife
[ 2 ]




knife