what myths must make us [mystery inc v. scout's honor]

[tick 12a / calla]

A R E T O

► ► ►

She sits out of reach of the firelight and listens to the cassette tape until it runs thin. There's a fallen log against her back and she can feel the bark of it dig in through her shirt every time she shifts in the grass. Her thumb hurts from pressing the play button and her head hurts from trying to make sense of it. S

he leans back and watches the stars and tries to match up the voice she's hearing with the boy she had met in the Training Centre.

In the first play through, after turning the thing over in her hands to actually figure out what to do with it, Love Bellisario's grating little voice had come from nowhere and Areto had drawn her weapon so quickly, had spun in a circle to figure out where he'd ambushed her from, and it took her an embarrassing amount of time to realize that the sound was coming from the tape in her other hand. She'd almost dropped the cassette and crushed it under her boot right there.

But then she'd heard Emerson's name, and gone through a flurry of ten different emotions. Then she sat against the log and played the tape again.

The mutt that brought it had snuck up on her, and Areto was girl who prided herself on not being snuck up on. She'd whirled around and kicked it out of instinct, watched it fly against the trunk of a tree and then toddle back to its feet, cooing. It stared at her with eyes so dark that they just looked like empty space, then it deposited a little cartridge of plastic into her hands and wandered off. Areto had watched it go, hand drifting closer and closer to the hilt of her sword until the sound of its keening faded away.

But even when the mutt is gone, and even when the fire starts to die down and Avriel finally settles, Areto still feels restless. She feels angry and frustrated and every time the tape replays it gets worse. She doesn't know what to feel. There's ants under her skin and Love's voice is bouncing around in her head and it overlays the actual recording.

Does that make someone like you heartless too?

She holds the tape in a clenched fist and doesn't sleep.

Ψ

The sun is barely up when Areto is shaking the other three awake. There are thick clouds making their away across the dawn, and the way they roll and tumble against each other makes her uneasy.

"Let's go." She whispers to Blade when the girl sits up, half-asleep and bleary eyed, "Before everyone else does."

It doesn't take long for Areto to lead them away from the fire, just like it doesn't take long for the first raindrop to fall. The initial wave of pattering comes as a blessing, washing away the sweat and the grime from the past three days. Love's cassette weighs her bag down, but Areto raises her face to the sky as they walk and tries to imagine a sea spray.

The temperature drops in time with their steps and the rain plasters her hair to the back of her neck. The water presses against her shoulders and drips down her face and she almost feels like she's back home again.

Areto looks over at her allies, still resolutely following her, and sees that they don't quite feel the same way. The little ones shake from the downpour and Avriel looks even more murderous than usual.

"We should find somewhere to take shelter-" She starts to suggest, yelling to be heard over the rain, but she stops suddenly at the sight of movement in her peripherals.

She freezes like a doe, every muscle tensing as her head turns in the direction of the flash.

She sees him first. The boy from Seven. Ugly hot rage rises up from her throat so suddenly that she wonders if the others can feel the heat of it too. Every instinct tells her to throw her spear before he can notice the sail of the metal, but its the muscle memory of training that stays her shaking hand and forces it to her side. She doesn't know that it was his fault. She'll never know because they're liars, all of them, and even their graves won't tell their secrets.

But still, it's Emerson that shakes her head from over Reece's shoulder, and it's Love who laughs at the way Areto can barely hold herself back.

The brush moves again and more tributes step into view, two she doesn't quite recognize and then

Aspen.

Areto blinks and the flax of her hair turns gold. Seeing her on the lakeshore feels like a lifetime ago.

Aspen killed Chad, Areto can hear Love's tape say, but she knows his tongue is silver and his hands are not gentle. Maybe that was his plan all along - to kill his allies and blame it on Reece and his friends.

Areto suddenly puts her hand on Ariel's shoulder and leans down to her ear, pointing to the trees around them.

"Get a high vantage point." She says quickly, "Keep an eye out for anyone else."

Areto steps out into the open then, making herself seen. She is not a deceiver, and no matter what her heart is screaming at her to do, she will not attack from the shadows. She waits until they notice her, and then waits a beat longer. She draws her sword and plants her feet and tries not to feel afraid.

The sound of the rain blocks everything else out, until it's just her and her blade and the ground beneath her. This isn't a spar. This isn't a fight of honour or tradition. Her opponents will not return her bow when they step into the circle and they will not take her bluntness as a sign of respect.

Areto feels Blade and Avriel come up from behind her, and she raises her chin.

"Well?" She calls to the alliance.

Does that make someone like you heartless too?

Ḕ tā̀n ḕ epì tâs.

"Shall we?"

areto attacks willa ; machete (sword)
6Y9jAMGF9Bsword
Block -- 0.0 damage

accuracy day 4
sword
Shallow Cut on Stomach -- 4.0 damage

sword·sword

[✨ zozo.]

🗡

You found each-other again, relief flooding your body with the dark of the night. A scolding for leaving without a sound, you chewed your lip on the walk back and mumbled "I didn't want you to worry."

Trying to do good only made things worse, and the guilt eats at you long after you lay down to rest. You think of that boy, the glint of his eyes hovering over the tip of your knife and see him in the stars as you flick and twirl the blade open, shut, open, shut. Was he as afraid of you as you were him? Had he lost someone too, hoping to find her? Or was he running away? Was he subconsciously learning how to slip from a deadly girl's attention, even if he didn't realise it until dark?

You don't have time to dwell on the realisation that one day, very soon, you will have to leave, because Chad's face lights up the night sky like lightening and your body feels as if your knife has plunged itself into your chest.

Stupid idiot, he would die without saying goodbye. You grit your teeth, bite down on your lip until it bleeds, blink back the tears, snap your knife shut - hard and fast. The dark stirs, mourning and vengeful. Stupid idiot. Stupid idiot. Stupid idiot. Stupid idiot. Stupid idiot.

The tears dry overnight. They must have, because the sun is barely grazing your skin when Areto shakes you awake. I'm sorry, you want to respond. For leaving. For when I have to go. Soon, without following Ariel. Instead you pack your things and try to believe what Avriel told you last night - that you're good, despite the dark in you.

Days ago, fear would have been the first thing that gripped you when you saw their faces. Now the dark simmers as memories pull you back to the last time you saw Chad. With them, their fists raised, their glares dark and warning. You stop in your tracks, no longer wide-eyed. Instead your fist closes around the hilt of your sword and feel the ache of the wound Chad's face left buried in your chest.

"Shall we?" Areto asks - you don't need to respond.

Not with words, anyway.

🗡

blade attacks willa, sword
Hp|fywLorDsword
Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage

sword

[sidney]

It's with heavy, tired limbs that I crest the hill. The pack on my back feels as if it is filled with lead and if I carry it any longer, I'm afraid my spine will snap in half and all I've done since I've entered this arena will have been for nothing. Dramatic, I know, but my body is so sore. And that's coming from someone who spends ten hours a day chopping down trees. This place has either made me soft or left too many bruises to count. I'm still not sure. A part of me knows its the second, but the other part of me refuses to believe it. He refuses to acknowledge all the wrongs he's committed and instead of looking outward at what the world has thrown at him, he blames me. I probably would too. You're weak, he says as I wipe sweat from my brow. I lean against a nearby tree and drop my bag to my feet and he laughs in my face. So fucking weak. I grimace, loathing the own voice in my head as it spits facts I'm not ready to face. I am weak and ruined and it's only the fourth day. He's right because I did cry myself to sleep last night, huddled in my tent with my bag in my arms like a child's stuffed animal.  Wouldn't you if you'd just killed someone?  It's been days! Get over it! He shouts and I wince. It's not just something to get over, not just something you can move on from. I'm not a career; I wasn't raised to believe killing is the key. Some would call them savages, and in part, they are. But others look up to them. They hope and pray to become them, to become as feral and triumphant as they are. The part of me that knows if I make it out of here alive, the arena will leave it's mark on me hopes for the same. To become as violent as the ones hunting me. To become as fearsome as them. You already are! The voice yells and I do my best to push it away, to silence it hopefully forever. I don't want to be. Distraction comes in the form of movement up ahead. I watch as figures step out from behind trees and before I even know what I'm doing, my axe is in my hand and I'm rushing down the slope toward them. "Eyes up," I look back over my shoulder at the girls and then start to close the distance between me and whoever's closest. The girl before me goes for Willa first, then gives out some orders to the rest of her allies and it's then that I know: she's their leader. The second girl takes another swipe at my ally and I damn near growl. It's not my job to protect her, not really. If we were both being honest, if one of us were to die by someone else's hand, that'd be better than having to do it ourselves. Which is what I'm most afraid of. How long before I find myself standing over Willa or Aspen while they sleep with my axe in my hand?  "Let's show 'em what we're made of," I say to Willa as I step up beside her and swing at her attacker.

[ reece attacks blade, axe ]

Ic3PJWKv|qaxe

[ severed left forearm - 9.5 dmg + 1 strength ]

axe

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Nora avoids her friends like the plague.

She doesn't go far, never really lets them out of her sight, but she does everything in her power to distract herself from whatever conversation they make, finds a way to keep herself apart from it all. She's terrified about the things that it says about her, but she sits in the firelight and again and again she feels the weight of Chad crumpling beneath her. Limbs that had been holding her, saving her, trying to take her somewhere else, anywhere else. She closes her eyes and she feels his elbow dig into her hip, feels her heel knock against his spine. She feels his head loll against her shoulder and she thinks about kneeling at the edge of the lake, scrubbing his blood off of her hands, trying to get it out of her hair, off of her face.

She'd vomited when she realizes it was dried into her eyelashes.

She looks at Aspen for half a second, feels something contract in her chest and a voice whisper she did it for you.

Nora knows that she's being selfish with her feelings, but no matter what she does, she can't seem to bring herself to swallow and remember how to breathe. The part of her that cares about other people, the good and kind part of her knows that Aspen has just gone through something traumatic, too. Nora's watched Reece shatter in slow motion the last few days, and she thinks surely Aspen will feel something similar. But every time she thinks about swallowing, standing up and going over to the blonde and comforting her, she stops breathing. She doesn't blame Aspen, but she doesn't know how to tell her that even though she knows that she should. Every time that she thinks maybe, just maybe, she's going to be able to relax the muscles in her back and come back to herself though, she doesn't. She blinks, realizes that a minute has passed and finishes whatever her thoughts poisoned her with for a moment.

And time passes a lot like that.

She bites her tongue, and she trembles, and she tries to mourn. Over and over and over, she tries and tries but she can't bring herself to feel it. Every time that she stills, she trembles with it, clenches her jaw and wraps her arms around herself and just squeezes. It's like her brain doesn't have the room to process it, like it knows that she doesn't get to cry and miss him and be exhausted at this fate she has found him in.

She forgets to drink water, forgets to eat, forgets to sleep. They trek through the camp, rain bucketing from the sky, and she forget to notice her body getting weaker underneath her own two feet. She has her hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of her ugly machete already when Areto emerges from the trees, chin high.

Rivulets of water cascade down Nora's cheeks, over her chin and down her neck, the cold of them making gooseflesh stand tall and she stands stock still for half a second. She wants to run. She wants to run. She wants to run. She wants to run. More than anything, she just wants to reach out and grab Willa's hand and make her turn around and flee with her. Maybe they would outrun them. Maybe they wouldn't, but maybe they could.

And Nora is so tired of fighting.

But Willa is too far away, and before Nora can even blink Areto and Blade both slashed their own machetes across her friends' body and she knows that she can't.

She can't be responsible for another friend dying.

She could never leave them.

"Don't touch her!" she shouts, dropping her bags like they're on fire and running headfirst into the fray. She's ten paces back, but she's in front of Willa sooner than anyone would have thought her capable of. She wishes she had dove in quicker, wishes she'd dove in the second Areto emerged among the rain and taken the blows the other alliance landed on her, but it doesn't matter. She's trying now.

She's trying.

[ nora attacks blade, machete ]

wtD_MJQsZjsword

1039 - sc right shoulder - 3.5

sword

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

It—

It just hurt more this way. It hurt more to want and not receive. It hurt more to hope and then understand. It hurt more. And that was saying something, because expecting the worst meant living life in the very darkest recesses of one’s own mind— she was cerebral enough as it was, the poor girl. But, if she were to be honest, she still would have preferred that over this. Over having the audacity to succeed when the odds say she shouldn’t. Over the hellscape that had become her life in the aftermath of it. Her odds must have been quite decent by now, she reckoned. Well, prideful truth: she hoped. It didn’t really mean anything important at all, now that she was seeing it up close. She was supposed to die first and then she won the wealth. She and Nora had borrowed some time, she guessed. Without asking. Maybe that’s why the punishment was raining so heavily upon them now.

She felt an unbearable flightiness around her edges, and wondered if she was maybe anemic or something. Maybe it was just a side effect of being awake before her brain was ready for to be. Ash, but then that would have been asking too much of the ever-so-humble Capitol in all its gloriously misled fucking glory. They needed this sheep specifically to be the one they slaughtered next. And that’s all she was to them; that’s all she would ever be, she knew that. It hurt, but she knew it. She was— She was more before. So much more. Perhaps, Willa thought, the worst part of dying right now is that she wouldn’t be dying as herself. She’d never make it back to that girl she wanted to return to being. She’d die as this, as the annoyingly-delicate remains of something that used to burn because it could. She was all char now, not an ounce of heat to her.

Oh, and her kidneys were possibly failing as well. The idea of peeing on camera was fucking weird— she was right and she should have said it— and so she’d been holding it until she couldn’t and that meant she was avoiding water because obviously that would have o it made her have to pee even more but regardless, her lower back felt like she’d been folded in half the wrong way. And she could tell by how much her armpits ached that her period was right around the corner.

Right, so like she’d already established: this way was a hell of a lot harder than the other way. She was blinking away stars when Reece spoke to her: the jolt of the two attacks had set her off balance and now she wasn’t entirely sure where the fuck her center of gravity was. and she felt like she was operating at a pretty rough angle.

She groaned, a defeated sigh more like. She was already so tired. And that scared her. And it scared her even more that the fear was no longer enough alone to keep her eyes open. Of the two who’d hit her, she thought, Reece and Nora had already shoved off the smaller one pretty well; it was the smarter move to push the other one back. Distance was her friend. Distance was what had kept her alive. She was going to just run back to the canoe as fast as she could as soon as she could. Once she was on the lake, that was it and it was done because she had gotten really good at rowing, thank you very much, and there was no way any of them would ever be able to keep up without a canoe of their own. She kept thinking of that first day, when she saw that terrifying creature almost break the surface, and she knew that it was only a matter of time until he made another appearance— it was a rule in writing. Don’t mention a gun hanging on the wall if someone isn’t going to use it later. And that is what this Game was: a story. A plot, a reality show with the most extreme stakes possible. A narrative Willa Copeland was never supposed to be a part of for very long.

But there she was. And there she continued to be. This stuff set her teeth on edge; she wished to he hopeless again so the pain would go away.

She bit her bottom lip with rage, sword held out as well as she could manage. Her edges frayed like a doll with its loose strings being pulled. She could already feel herself beginning to become unbound.

“I’m. Not. Quitting.”

Maybe the words were meant more for herself than anyone else, but she’d said them aloud anyway. She didn’t know; seemed like a cinematic thing to do in the moment. She felt herself begin to blush.

( willa attacks areto, sword )
oY0SF_gVQVsword
[ 1184 -- Deep Gash on Forehead -- 9.0 damage ]

“sword”

[Python]

a r i e l .

"freedom, oh freedom
like a hearbeast
can drive you mad."

It was a taste of bliss. She buried her hunger pangs in gingerbread crackers and canteens of water, and pretended that every decision she had made was acceptable. An embarrassed blush had lightened her cheeks when she realized how reckless she had been, walking away from the alliance without warning. Fortunately, she won the gamble and everything turned out okay. There was no lesson learned, no regrets about putting her alliance in danger.

They were well off, all things considered.

When the small ghost-creature handed her a cassette player, Ariel didn't hesitate to take it. She knew what it was, who it reminded her of, and when she placed the buds in her hears she sought familiarity.

"Don't lose those guts."

It made her giddy. She didn't know why, maybe it was nice to hear a familiar voice that didn't remind her of death and pain. She had tried to memorize the melodies of his songs so she could use them as a lullaby later. Capitol music wasn't the same, it didn't feel authentic or comfortable. Love's music wrapped her in a warm blanket, and that was all she needed. "Promise, I won't," she whispered. Those were big shoes to fill. After fighting wolves and mutant deer, she didn't feel any more or less brave. Only exhausted.

Okay, maybe she felt a smidge more brave. She wondered if that would crumble in the face of a human opponent.

She replayed the tape two more times, and spent the rest of the evening twirling the bracelet around her wrist.

Sleep did not come easy this time. The campfire was a beacon in the night, but with the pulsating pain in her arm and cold rain droplets falling on her cheeks, peace was difficult to find. She took shelter beneath the widest tree and draped the bag over her face, but exhaustion was the only thing that allowed her to pass out. It wasn't enough.

Everything was worse in the morning. She was cold, her uniform was sticking to her skin, and the downpour was so loud that everybody had to raise their voice to hear each other. With food and water in their bellies, there was no true destination in mind until the flood water sloshed at their ankles. Areto suggested shelter. Ariel thought of higher ground; floods were not always common where she lived, but anybody with land near water was aware of it. With all of the droughts, nobody worried about floods anymore, but she had that knowledge tucked away in her mind.

She played one of Love's songs in her head to distract herself from the screaming sky. There was misery in every step, water in her socks and goosebumps on every inch of skin, but she managed to find a rhythm in her fingers. She tapped her palm as she walked. If she saw Love again, maybe she could share her name ideas. This one created the image of a hunting dog running in the forest - "Lost In The Woods?" "Hunter On The Loose?" If only she had pen and paper, and no rivers falling from the sky.

She halted when the others did, squinting at the sight of silhouettes in the mist. She could not see them clearly through the rain, but she knew right away that they weren't mutts. "Get a high vantage point," Areto said, firm hand on her shoulder, "Keep an eye out for anyone else." Ariel nodded and headed for the trees. She could hide in the branches while the others scattered.

As soon as her hand touched the bark, she made the mistake of turning around. Areto surged forward with her spear, Blade in hot pursuit. She gasped; now she felt as if her instructions were unclear. This was a brawl, not an attempt at civility or escape, and she was lingering at the very edge of it.

Panic set in. Her hands found her spear, and she thought about what Areto wanted her to do. She could climb the tree and watch, like a hawk scanning for hunters and prey. She could run away into the woods and avoid fighting humans, because she knew she was ill-prepared to take a human life.

But she wouldn't forgive herself if she abandoned them.

She stared at them, and the longer she stared the more her knees trembled. She was hesitating, overthinking. The more she contemplated, the more time passed, and all of that time was wasted if people were swinging knives and spears at each other and— they were hurting them. Blade and Areto. One girl slashed Areto across the face, and a boy buried his axe into Blade's arm. They were outnumbered without Ariel.

She made her final decision and sprinted toward the group. She ignored the pellets of water stinging her cheeks and the puddles splashing under her shoes. If she didn't run as fast as she could, there was always a chance she could stop herself and turn around. If she built enough momentum, there was no changing her mind. It was a decision she had to make, no second thoughts or sudden regrets. If she was going to hurt somebody, there could be no ounce of hesitation.

"Turn back!" She yelled. It wasn't a threat as much as a fearful stutter in the rain, yet that fright lurking inside of her did not stop the rest of her body from lunging at the nearest tribute.

elegant

[attacks nora - spear]
5u|UOhdwjPspear
Stabbed in Eye -- 40 damage

spear

[gamemaker kelsier]

a v r i e l .

"Comparing scars before dinner
Jump off the booth into the mirror
Felt like summer
To my December"

The Kodama stares at him all night, rotund body folded up small, little stubby arms on its knees as it sits as close to his face as it can manage.

Avriel gazes at it, it's better to focus on the ghostly little mutt than the pain in his legs. He's seen flower petals before that were nearly as transparent, blueish veins running through them like little circuit lines. The Kodama's mouth is a dug out little upturned oval on its face, it's eyes like two black pits.

Still It's nice to be watched over, nice to be loved.

Sweat trickles down his brow into the crevice of his eye. The salt makes his eye water but Avriel makes no move to wipe it away. His body is finished for the day, he's stuck where he is.

It's nice, kind of. It's good to use himself all up until the weight he feels on his eyes is not his own. He sleeps dreamless, so deep that there's no thought left, just this thirty foot drop into nothing and in the mornings, he wakes refreshed. Briefly, he wishes that he could always have this, it's hard to think about anything else here, everything is surface level.

The Kodama rattles its little head and Avriel smiles the littlest bit before another tear falls sideways out of his eye to fall on the dirt below him.

Duke would love these things, it's as if they're straight out of one of his stories.

"I dunno what to call you," he murmurs.

Avriel flexes his fingers slowly, there's still a knife in his left hand. He's been afraid to put it away since earlier, afraid to lose Blade or Ariel or Areto. All he's known how to do for a long time is protect the people that he cares about, it's his default now. His allies are a good enough substitute for his siblings and it's starting to get hard to differentiate his feelings for them.

His allies are here, the backs of their hands brushing across his forehead to feel his fever. His siblings are at home, safe, waiting, looking for their parents.

They all want something from him, he tries to give it, fingers curled around the handle of the knife.

He's going to have to kill them in the end if he wants to go home, but does he? Home is Nine, with Duke and Billie and his parent's corpses and powerful people that know just how to control him. Here is pain but it feels good, it feels right, it feels good.

It feels right.

He shuts his eyes and he sleeps.

In the morning, there's a tape deck in front of his face and when Avriel clicks it open, there's his name written on the front. He doesn't have to ask where it came from, there's only one person in the arena who would leave that for him. The little Kodama pokes the little spokes on the tape and a soft cry flows from its lips like the wind in a bottleneck.

"Nah, not right now," Avriel tells it and he stows the unheard tape away in his bag.

The last time he'd spoken to Love, the other boy was holding him up against the wall by his shirt, looking like he wanted to kill him.

He doesn't owe him anything, least of all listening to his tape.

Areto leads them away from the campfire in the early morning and Avriel does his best to step carefully through the various groupings of sleeping kids. A part of him wonders why they're just leaving like this. They could save a lot of time by just taking people out in their sleep. Maybe that's not right, not how people do things outside of Nine.

But does that matter anymore?

He can be the monster from Nine, icy fingers to match his cold expression.

They're in the trees before he can think about it more and Avriel has to focus on lifting his feet above a shuffle. He's finally starting to get used to the constant pain and he's no longer wondering why everyone else just seems alright. The hollow space in his leg where the trap ate clean through him doesn't seem so structurally weak anymore, it can hold his weight.

Maybe he's just dying.

Every time he checks behind him, the Kodoma is there, pulling itself over the tree roots snaking across the path patiently. Avriel stops every now and then to let it catch up, slowly growing more fond of the little thing. When he was little, he wanted a puppy, this is sort of like that.

They reach a clearing after awhile and Areto stops walking. It takes Avriel a moment to see what she's looking at. He knew this was coming eventually of course. There's only so many times they can throw themselves up against mutts before the audience gets bored, there's no drama in that.

"Shall we?"

And everything happens at once.

Fresh blood cuts through the fresh scent of the morning and Avriel blinks as a spray of blood stains the grass in front of him. Someone calls something out, there are words navigating through the clearing, people saying words that they'll only have this moment to say and Avriel's hand tightens around the knife handle.

He turns his head slowly, seeking out Blade. Can he even fight without her there to wake him?

The scent of burning cherries, a tear forms and crawls down his cheek and his back hits a wooden wall, the bloodstained curtains waving in the wind beside him.

Eyes wide open, throats split.

Eternally happy.

"Turn back!"

It's an unmistakable sound, the head of a spear travelling through someone's eye into their brain. Avriel turns to see Ariel, a body on the end of her spear, Nora.

A cannon sounds off right above their heads and Avriel looks up, almost expecting rain.

And there's Blade, bleeding so much, like someone still alive, someone that he can love still and protect. She's dying without him, her partner for the last few days just stuck standing there watching while they try to kill her, abandoning her like he silently promised he wouldn't yesterday.

He can't lose her, not yet, just one more day. One more day and he'll be okay.

Avriel lifts his knife slowly, eyes on his moving targets.

[av attacks reece with throwing knife]
EwGXyb4tcethrowing knife
[Shallow Cut on Calf -- 3.5 damage]

throwing knife

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

ASPEN
PEAKE

"What did you do?"

It's her voice that stays with me. More than the blood, and the rage, and the regret. All the terrible things. They become glass shards in my hands. It's almost enough to ruin a person. Enough to send a static shock through me, numbness snaking down my arms and settling in my fingertips. Nora is sobbing, and everyone is running from the chaos, and I move in flashes. One moment I'm chasing behind her, trying to ignore that the spear is still in my hand, stained red.

Then I'm sitting in silence, knowing that I've disgraced myself. I wanted to be a hero, eighteen years and toy swords broken into splinters, and now all I can think about is the gentle boy falling at my feet with an endless thud. An echo. I watch the sky, and the trees, and the night is quiet. I don't sleep. No one reaches out to me. And when the sun rises over the hill, I am haloed by the light. I pack my bag, count my knuckles, catch fire over and over again.

I am the dawn, and I am the end.

A breath escapes my lips in the time I'm somewhere else again, trying to keep my jaw held high and not show any of my discomfort. I want to tell her I'm sorry, and I want to tell myself that I was right to do what I did. I just stare straight ahead, and the dangers return as they always do. Wearing different faces, and familiar eyes. Areto stares into my soul, and I wonder what she sees. Turmoil. An internal scar; pouring grief into me.

Like my sin playing on repeat, like I'm so stuck in my own head, trapped in the repetition — a spear through the eye. But I'm still just in the background, watching it happen, so stubbornly furious with myself that I can't see that I'm the only person here not hurting. Because I keep thinking about the way his head lurched back, the way her curls catch the wind now, the way it's always so silent after that terrible blow.

And I scream, and I charge. At whoever is closest, a tangle of limbs and steel, looking down into those dark depths. Because of course it's her, and of course it's my first reaction to hurt someone. I am a weapon. I am learning how to be okay with this. Nora is dead, and I'll always hate myself for watching. I don't deserve to see her shatter. But I do. And I cry, and I feel like breaking even with all my wounds closed over. It's not fair.

I'm unfair.

The truth is, nothing has ever been easier for me than letting people down. Hurting them. Pushing them away. Seeing red, and holding nothing back. "Areto," sounds almost like a prayer when I whisper it. It's a cold splash of water to the face, chunks of ice in the palms of my hands, the way the world isn't quite as loud in the space between us. My cheeks are red, and my eyes are still bloodshot, and I've stabbed her through the stomach. And I can feel her blood, and I can see the betrayal, and I don't feel any different.

Because I've always been this awful.

There's nothing I can't ruin.

( aspen attacks areto, spear )
r9K|wD5h|bspear
( block )

accuracy | day four
spear
( Stabbed in Stomach -- 9.5 damage | +1 strength [10.5] )

spear·spear

[tick 12a / calla]

A R E T O

► ► ►

Blade materializes out of the trees to stand beside her, darting on to the path with a flash of lightning, and Areto isn't fast enough to get between her and Reece. His axe falls, and Blade cries out, and Areto can hear sirens in her ears.

"Leave her alone," She hisses, but it's barely even a sound above the rain. Areto has her sword raised, planting herself in front of Blade and she's gearing up to swing at Reece when the first blow comes.

A sword shines through her peripherals but there's no pain that follows, not immediately. A film falls over her eyes, and she goes to hurriedly wipe away the rain, but her fingers drag through something more viscous, and when she pulls her hand down it comes away red. The rain keeps falling, washing the colour from her hands, but now the blood flows from her head freely, stinging her eyes and dripping into her mouth. She can't see, every flash of lightning turns the world pink and she needs to be with Blade, she needs to be there to protect her because Avriel was further down the path behind them and Areto had sent Ariel up into the trees.

The the boom of the cannon comes, and Areto feels her blood freeze.

She stumbles back and scrubs at her eyes, her mind stuck on a loop of Ariel and Blade and then Blade and Ariel and then Avriel. She whirls around so fast that she almost slips on the wet ground, squinting through the grime and the water to count heads in the chaos. Areto just manages to get a glimpse of Ariel, very much on the ground and not scouting in the trees, but she's so relieved to see the other girl still standing that she doesn't dwell on it.

Then the world falls out from under her, the sky twists, and the breath is knocked from Areto's lungs as her back hits the ground. She sees gold against the grey of the sky and wonders if she's just been killed.

The pain this time is different than the slash against her forehead. This pain is scorching and immediate and Areto has never been stabbed before. She's never even seen a stomach wound that bad, and part of her is too afraid to follow the line of the spear and make herself look at where it broke through her abdomen.

But she's never seen a wound like that because the island would not tolerate a wound like that. Death came through illness, or through the slit of a throat, or from a force of nature. Never from something like this. It was too painful and too inhumane. Being stabbed in the stomach means bleeding out. It means dying slowly and painfully and there isn't a single Amazon she's aware of who would wish it on their worst enemy.

Areto tries not to think of Love, and of the way she had wanted to drive her spear into him and let the hit land with her eyes closed.

"Aspen." She gasps out instead, and there's something incomprehensible in her voice.

Because it's Aspen's face above her that hurts more than the spear in her stomach. There's red stuck to Areto's eyelashes, but she can still make out the curve of Aspen's jaw and the bright of her eyes. She watches her for what feels like ages, the rain falling around them and the thunder cracking above them. Areto feels a rush of something that's not quite betrayal, but it courses through her veins with a similar heat and starts to boil over under the chill of the downpour.

Something breaks and shifts and then someone presses the play button on the world again, colour comes back and every sound seems suddenly amplified. Areto can hear one of the girls yelling and it lights a fire under her. She groans at the blade pushing through her stomach but levers her legs up and throw Aspen off of her, shoving the girl away with barely a glance. This isn't about her. This isn't about Areto. Not right now. Now, it's about the people she's supposed to protect.

Areto gets to her feet and credits herself when she only sways once. Her sword is lost in the muck and she can feel the way it cakes to the line of her back and sticks in her hair, but she still has her spear strapped across her back, and so she grabs that with unsteady hands. She keeps one palm pressed to her stomach, all of her mother's lessons suddenly flooding her mind.

Keep pressure, She can hear Melousa's voice say, Watch for an exit wound.

And she tries, but every step she takes makes the earth crumble. She focuses on Blade and waits for her profile to illuminate like a beacon, making her way over in a rush. Everything still moves so fast, there's more blood on Blade but Areto can't tell if it's hers or someone else's. Reece is still there, and so is the girl from Six, but holding the spear one-handed makes Areto's aim waver. She heaves it up as best she can, watching the point of it dance in the rain, and then forces it in front of them.

areto attacks willa ; fire poker (spear)
3ocnO2kDyEspear
Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage

spear

[✨ zozo.]

🗡

Seeing Areto butchered does something terrible to you.

Worse than-

"Eyes up!"

and you raise your arm to shield your own, it comes back down nearly sawed in two.

Worse than-

"Don't touch her!"

and Ariel's spear splits the iris of a girl who looks so much like you.

Worse than-

"Turn back!"

You try to, but your eyes catch Avriel's face as you fall to the ground and he steps forward on cue to shield you from harm.

You want to gasp Don't!, but the agony in your arm is unbearable. A thick wound spurts blood, artery all but severed - the once sturdy armour now bloodied strips hanging limply around your wrist, slipping in the raindrops on your skin. A sword arcs across the storm and slices through rain, through the skin on Areto's forehead. A spear finds her stomach, your protector chokes on blood and a name.

"Aspen."

And you thought this would make you worse, make you the most terrible thing in this arena - but instead you find yourself the smallest you've ever been. You think of Chad, his smile, wonder if they stole it from him as quickly as they took all of Areto's grandeur. It's strange how her strength can leave you in a single moment. How your blind faith in her immortality vanishes. Everything you saw in her might just have been for show - everything you thought true washed away with the rain.

Your terrible, dark thing goes with it. Now you're just a girl with a name that never quite fit her. All the good, all the weak, all everything your mother wanted you to be will kill you and you know it. Because it's one thing to fight creatures when your friends are gods, knowing the dark in you is enough to suffice. But it's something else entirely to know that everything you are, good and bad, isn't enough to keep you alive.

You stumble backward in the rain and barrel into Avriel, no longer a pillar of strength but a crumbling statue. Ash and dust, wide-eyed and terrified.

"What do we do?" you ask. Beg.

"What do we do?!"

You're asking him what you asked yourself before you caught sight of him struggling. We can leave her there, it hangs in the thunder of the rain. We can run, take heed of Ariel's cries.

The pain in your back answers for you.

He throws a knife, Areto slices back, you lift a sword too heavy for your weak hands and try not to cry.

🗡

blade attacks willa, sword
3EizMVXOPisword
Deep Gash on Right Calf -- 8.0 damage + 1 blades

sword

[sidney]

I withdraw my axe with a strained grunt. Blood drips from the end, but it's quickly washed away by the heavy downpour around us. I'm thankful for the rain, if I'm being honest. I'll use it to wash away my sins today, to rid myself of all the wrongs I've committed since I've entered this place. I've kept track, repeated them all over and over in my head every second I've been awake. Killing Emerson. Snapping at Aspen. Nearly chopping off Blade's arm. And now, not protecting Nora when she needed it the most.  I let myself get lost in the moment, jumping at the chance to let off a little steam as yet another four tributes square up against us. But I've terribly miscalculated the savagery of the girls standing before us. I had a feeling about Areto, the girl I saw talking to Aspen on the first night. She had something in her eye from the moment she'd seen me crest over the hill. Like I was fresh meat and it was Reece hunting season. But the others had seemed harmless enough and I'd seen Willa, Nora, and Aspen all handle themselves perfectly fine. So much so that I had honestly thought they were protecting me, not the other way around.  "NO!" My voice cracks, the noise dying out in my throat before her body can even collapse onto the wet Earth. "What the fuck is wrong with you? She did NOTHING!" I watch in horror as yet another woman in my life perishes, and my first instinct - just like when I watched my sister get gunned down in the street - is to run. I don't want to be here. I don't want to watch as the hovercraft comes. I don't watch to witness the crane reaching down from above to scoop up her body. I don't want to lose her, not one bit.  A canon sounds.  My ears start to ring.  I look toward Nora's killer and decide I hate her.  I look over my shoulder at Willa, then drag my eyes over to Aspen and nod, tears threatening to flow down my cheeks. I silently thank the rain for hiding my weakness and make a demand to my left, to my ally with whom I've taken a stand. "None of them leave alive." The words felt foreign as I said them, evil and threatening and like ashes atop my tongue. But they've broken me at this point. Reece, the broken boy with a dead sister and a chip on his shoulder, is no longer standing before them. Reece, killer of Careers and vengeance made flesh, bares his teeth instead.  He growls.  I swing.

[ reece attacks blade, axe ]

nou9PLc1oOaxe

[ dg left thigh - 8 dmg + 1 strength + 1 rivalry ]

axe

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

It was surprisingly quiet, the death of Nora Patterson. Willa had been thinking about it for so long- mulling it over, fearing it, giving it power- that she had already convinced herself it would be a spectacle of blood like fireworks, screams like thunder. A glorious departure where she spoke words that viewers and viewed alike would take with them for the rest of their lives. That she would be immortalized as a saint, prayed to in churches some day for her brave sacrifice. And.

It was quiet. Willa hadn't been paying any attention- she'd selfishly been more concerned with her own inevitable fate- but even still, she and Nora were right next to each other when it happened, and Willa didn't even hear a thing. It was the stillness that caught her eye, the jolt and then sudden stop. From this angle, her ally from Twelve seemed confused for the briefest of moments before she fell and a canon sounded. And then there it was, the quiet. The end. Not with a bang, but with a distinct lack of one.

This, in particular, devastated Willa Copeland. Because it meant her own death would be the same: the end of a sentence in a story that wasn't finished being written. A crumpled idea hastily scrawled onto a piece of paper, crumpled into a ball, and tossed into the bin. A waste. A ghost. A memory.

Nothing.

That's what fate had in store for Willa Copeland. But then, she'd made a career of telling fate to go and fuck itself thus far, so.

She trembled, death looking her in the eye, and tried to manage something like a smile in this moment where she was so deeply, profoundly unhappy. A spit of blood, a smear of some more on her forehead that mixed with the sweat and dirt that already lingered there. She groaned.

She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to die. The innate, natural feeling of one outweighed the unfairness of the other and in the end, it's what brought her sword back into the air, heaving through lungs which were tired and burning, seeing through eyes that just wanted to close.

She wanted to live.

She wanted to live.

She wanted to live.

She was so far removed from the situation that she wasn't sure if she was a harbinger of it, or a victim of it yet, but death stared back at her and he was unkind. And she was afraid of him. And she wanted him to be afraid, too.

( willa attacks blade, sword )
jGFKLgL|jisword
[ block ]

[accuracy]
sword
[1142 -- Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder -- 3.5 damage]

sword·sword

[Python]

a r i e l .

"freedom, oh freedom
like a hearbeast
can drive you mad."

Life has one rule, and it is that everything must end.

Every bedtime story her mother read had an end. Every day had an end. Human life had an end. Epilogues, sunsets, death—it creates fluidity, and it makes sense in the balance of everything. A never ending story would be boring, a day without night would be exhausting, and life without death would be meaningless. One would think this was an easy concept to think about, but death was not like the others. When people died in Ten, it was a solemn affair. People worked their entire lives to lay in the ground, hoping their children would live a little easier. Ariel's parents reminded her every day that she would one day join the work force.

She missed their voices, but she didn't miss the reality checks. She had never been the type to have a plan for the future. It was easier to bury that responsibility in laughter and sunshine—she was a kid, after all. She was living through her imagination and fairytales, why give all of that up for a grey future and a mysterious end? Everyone had their opinions on what happened when humans died, but in Ariel's mind, an end was an end. There was nothing after the epilogue of a story; she closed the book, and that was it.

She didn't like to think about that. Lives ending, people no longer existing. Her own story coming to a halt.

Even when faced with the Hunger Games, she buried it all beneath silly distractions. She roped together friendship bracelets instead of forming strategy. She played Love's music in her head instead of staking out their next location or discussing how they would continue to keep themselves hydrated.

This was the first time she couldn't look away.

Training in the Captiol was safe, because at the end of the day she knew the trainer would grab his towel and walk out of the room to see his family again. He taught her where to aim, what the vital points were, and without any real thought, she had thrust her spear into one of Nora's vital points. This time there was a horrible sound, like a skewer cutting into meat. Ariel's eyes widened. The weight of her spear started pulling her to the ground. Dead weight. She screamed when she saw Nora's face, one eye blank and the other at the end of her spear.

There was a ringing in her ears. She pulled the spear out in a panic, and if it weren't for the cold rain icing her veins, she would've vomited. There was no clear view of the girl's face, of her end—the mist and the rain dripping off of her eyelashes blurred her view. She heard yelling somewhere in the background. A boy's voice. She didn't know what he was saying, but when she looked up, she could see the boiling fury in his eyes. "None of them leave alive."

There was blood, so much blood, and the weight of those words felt like stones in her abdomen. This was her fault. If they killed Blade and Areto, it was her fault. "What do we do?!?" Blade pleaded, soaked in raindrops and blood.

Ariel didn't know. It was too late to run, and too ridiculous to apologize.

She followed their lead instead, and with more hesitation, turned toward the boy who demanded all of their graves.

elegant

[attacks reece - spear]
oXKgsGG9tEspear
Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage

spear

[gamemaker kelsier]

a v r i e l .

"Comparing scars before dinner
Jump off the booth into the mirror
Felt like summer
To my December"

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

If Avriel shuts his eyes, he can pretend that they're back at the lake on that first night. The sun sets over still waters and the only one missing is Emerson, that girl from one that Areto was so angry about. Instead of rain drops trickling down the back of his neck, he can pretend that it's long grass tickling his cheek, that whispy feeling at the end of summer sending him into a sort of melancholy state.

He can pretend that Nora isn't lying in the dirt, lifeless, missing all the parts of her that made her tick, like his father's wrist watch still sitting in pieces back home on the kitchen table. Avriel's always been so good at putting things back together but lately it seems all that he can do is take things apart.

He watches as his knife barely skims Reece, watches as Aspen finds Areto's weak points and the girl everyone thought was a warrior queen falls to the earth too, like it's even possible for her to die. Avriel was afraid before this but something about seeing Areto so weak sends spikes of fear through him in rounds. He's only had Areto around for a few days but if she's gone then he'll miss her, it will hurt like she was there for much longer.

It'd be like watching the sun set for the last time.

And in that moment, he knows with all certainty, that he'd die for her, for Blade, for Ariel, he'd just lay down and die for all three of them. It's irrational and stupid and Avriel knows that but they don't understand what it was like for him before this. In Nine, he felt alone, crushed by the weight of what he owed to the world, but here there's only been freedom and this strange urgency blossoming within him to live.

To feel the rain slip down the back of his neck to mix with his blood because it proves that he's still alive.

Blade is spent, arm only just hanging on but the fingers unmoving, nearly dead. She backs into him and he's forgotten just how small she is and how well she fits there, back against his chest. "What do we do?" she asks him and turns to look at him.

Avriel stares back at her, that same conversation as always playing out between them silently. Her eyes are wide with fear and his gaze must match hers, but this time, this time when he says the words he means them, "We fight."

"We fight and tonight we rest and then tomorrow we fight again. Together."

He moves to stand in front of her, the only thing he's got to protect himself with is a throwing knife but it's enough. It's got to be enough.

Reece is a little ways in front of him, just far enough away to get a good throw in. Moments ago, he called for all of their deaths and he can't blame him. If it was one of his laying lifeless in the dirt, he'd feel the same way. He wishes it could be different, wishes that this isn't what they're reduced to and they could all just walk away from this but there's no use drawing it out.

"To the death it is," he says.

And he throws another knife at Reece.

[av attacks reece with throwing knife]
UTFVDOaq3Qthrowing knife
[Deep Gash on Calf -- 8.0 damage + 1 tg]

throwing knife

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

ASPEN
PEAKE

I am the hound.

Snarling beast good for nothing more than tearing out throats. Stealing last words, and unspoken secrets, and swallowing them down to keep for myself. Areto shrugs me off like I'm nothing — and I roll across the ground like I'm less than tangible. I can feel myself getting trapped in this moment again; with the way she stares up at me, the steady heat of her beneath me, the tension in our bodies and the earth and the way the sky must be burning with thunder above me. A round of applause for all of our sins.

More trauma. Another wound to cauterize.

If I am the hound, I am the master, too.

Rising to my feet, forcing myself to exist in a memory I already want to erase from my mind. Because I can't afford to start checking out. This cuts deeper than killing some sweet kid my ally cared about; aches more than knowing all I know about Nora is all I'll ever know. She's lying just a few feet away, quiet as the flowers in the grass, and somehow she's not here. Not anymore. And it's devastating.

But as Areto untangles herself from me, it's Willa who takes the punishment. I hear Reece grunt in pain, and this only charges the anxiety inside of me, warping it into something worse. Something more useful to me, and all the more destructive. I have never claimed to be a good person. If anything, I have owned the horrible things I have done. I embrace them so tightly that my arms shake, eyes running with tears as I stare down at all of my mistakes.

I'm not good. I know this. And yet, I'm having to suffer through this again. I'm the threat here, I'm the one with the spear slick with blood, and nothing is happening to me. I exist here only to watch, and to ruin, and it makes me want to scream. And I can't explain what has tethered me to her, but I can't stop myself from chasing after Areto, no longer an unpredictable wall of flame. I am a bullet. I am a gun.

Beneath this, I am a girl who does not know how to process her grief without punching something. And now I'm trapped in a game where if I start breaking things, I can't stop. None of these people can survive. I tell this to myself again. Beg myself to understand. But it only takes another swipe at my core, mocking me for the way I hate what I've done, and the way I want so desperately to keep them safe. I'm a fucking hypocrite. I don't fit in a team.

"I told Reece to kill Emerson."

Always so desperate to be a savior. What's a little more chaos?

"It was my plan, Areto. I was the bait."

I'm tired of the way I feel so out of control. When I meet her gaze again, I don't dare look away. And it's frightening, to let someone like Areto stare into you and steal whatever she wants, but I've laid out traps. Sharp enough for even her armor. "So, if you want to hurt my allies, go ahead." A step closer, shifting the point closer to her skin. "Kill whoever you want. Do what you have to." My teeth are bared. My hand is steady.

"But just know they're innocent. I'm the one you've been hunting."

And if I can step in front of one more blade, let it be this.

Let me be wounded in a way I know how to heal.

( aspen attacks areto, spear )
pi6GKec6oDspear
( Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage )

spear