[*ex malo bonum][56th Hunger Games Finale]

Panting. Deep breathing. To catch one's air from the dash, Takeba had to inhale the smoky remnants of consuming fire and gagged. With the gray cover throughout the Arena, vision would blue and eyes water. Fire had masticated just about every terrain and object - the long trek from the Oak Forest justified the District 4 Tribute's short amount of breath. At times, the little pyres almost licked her sore-ridden legs; but, while they were not able to reach with their tri-colored tongues, the inferno instead cackled as munching on anything did. Takeba desperately wished to take a break from the pursuit of the flame, but the lord of fire would not cease until she made it to the intended location. She was not surprised to see that the Gamemakers - who she assumed set up the hot parade - wanted the final Tributes to deck out the hurt in such a morbid place, which she dubbed 'the Pillars'.

The sharp spikes protruding from the ground was not the only part of the landscape that was eerie; due to the encroaching smoke, the scorched sky that clouded the sun covered the land in some dullness. Takeba could imagine that crows would perch on what trees existed in the pillars and croak out death-imbued words. Even the somewhat absence of life - except for her own - was unsettling. No matter where the 15-year old girl looked, there was the unnerving feeling. Overlooking the scenery, the District 4 Tribute laid her right hand on the left arm, deeply breathing despite the coughs that would come, keeping herself standing, resisting the temptation to crash onto the floor.

She knew it. She knew that the Gamemakers wanted Topaz and herself to fight in the area. There was no way that the same fate did not come upon the District 1 female, as past Hunger Games had similar events to corral the remaining fighters. Drusilla, Aranica, and Semper - the last Games contestants - were left to brawl in the ocean waters. While the entire Arena of the 55th Hunger Games had the islands flooded (even the Cornucopia, to Takeba's surprise when she was watching), the intention of the Gamemakers was clear right from the start: if all the grounds were submerged one-by-one, the Tributes would be left to spread ribbons of blood over the salty blue. Simple, yet excellent in execution. Here, in the Arena of fall, the ocean was the pillars. The last place to fight would be in the solemn morbidness.

Takeba made many turns and shifting of the eyes, watching for movement. Adrenaline pumping throughout the body and the remaining heightened senses thanks to the trailing fire kept the girl on the edge - even to her chagrin. Anytime now, Topaz could pounce on her frail body and plunge the trident (who knew what other kind of weapon the redhead acquired that was better) deep in her parched throat. Nothing. The pillars and the gray was all she could see for now. Out of all the days to be completely alone and not on her guard, this day was not the best to be unguarded. Even if she felt reassured that the final enemy was not anywhere near, Takeba could not calm her heart of the helplessness she ultimately felt, the helplessness that the dagger in her right hand could not fix. She found her breathing to be faster, desperate, weak.

Had she snapped? The fire that tried to grope and burn her perhaps got her into hysterics. Takeba closed her eyes, took a gulp of - choking - air, and tried to quiet the cacophonous palpitations she wondered if Topaz - if she was within a mile - could pick up on. Not yet will I be consumed to the eventual entity called 'madness' without raising a hand to it.

In an effort to sooth the erratic chemicals, Takeba pulled out the wooden figurine from one of the packs. Longish hair, a proud smile, dressed in the Hunger Games attire, furrowed brows, the epitome of desired victory over the madness. The thumb of the District 4 girl stroked the formed hair of the girl sculpture - made apparent from the curved belly and outward chest - dyed with blood. The texture did not feel correct from the crimson - who she could only assume was either hers or Joshua's - with how thick and gritty the dying liquid used was. Shrug. A symbolism of the pillages of our attacks, the blood of others, either ours of theirs. I had captured the essence of your persona and the spirit of the Capitol-run Hunger Games, Topaz Ross of District 1.

My ultimate piece of work is yours; I would like to express my gratitude for being my bisque doll model in my process of carving the ultimate being.

With a smile on her face, Takeba closed her eyes and planted a kiss on the head of the wooden sculpture. When she opened her vision back to the murky pillars, the wooden figurine continued to smile even when a blade nicked at the neck. Takeba put more power into the next swing, her left hand extending far away from her body, and the dagger chopped off the head. She felt nothing; she had thought the decapitation would send out a message to any wandering Topaz that she was to be tested right now. "As a servant to the alliance and the ploys of the Capitol, I have - indeed - kept the promise close to my heart - and have not fully let myself wander near the bony hands of His Majesty." Takeba dropped the rest of the wooden body, smiling. "However, I hope that none of you would mind that I have made... minor alterations to the promise. Topaz Ross of District 1, Nash Harvey of District 2, and Anani Petros of District 12..." Her eyes looked out to the horizon. "Two parts of the promise could not be carried out in time; and, to you fallen comrades, I must say my apologies and have shed my blood with past battles in order to express my sorrow. But, Topaz Ross, wherever you are, I propose that for the ultimate pitting of fists, I suggest that you would give me the honor of performing the promise." Deeper smile imbued with slight happiness. "A test of if you were strong enough to live throughout your life with power - or were you just not potent enough for me. The ultimate test awaits."

While talking to herself, she must have heard the approaching footsteps; but, while she did nothing, the attacker - Topaz, obviously - missed her. Stealthy! How close the weapon was, from reaction, Takeba crashed on the ground, falling back. No reassurance from her own weapon. Too close! She could not get up immediately and would probably suffer another attack attempt before her arms and legs would be able to get into the offense, but she would - instead - say a few words. "I must say that the initiative you took was great - despite the miss. I commend you, Topaz Ross of District 1. Now, then, shall we test?"

From where Takeba sat, the head of the wooden figure rolled off from the light wind.

For what reason would Takeba commend a person like Topaz, who seemed to not care the least for the District 4 girl? That was not to be a question for Takeba to think up, let alone answer. Rather, she gave off a smirk instead of that innocent, reassuring smile she would have done most of the time. The model for the wooden figurine was replying back. Before the final death, there would be a standoff of words; and, perhaps, because this was Topaz Ross, the girl who said that she should dumb her vocabulary down, she should have improvised and actually repressed such a non-casual diction. After all, the finale for the 56th Hunger Games did not call for long conversations and intricate, deep bonding. Takeba could see that from last night's Anthem. Dead Nash Harvey, probably sent to the afterlife by the Tribute she ran off with, now the District 4 Tribute's opponent.

While she was answered, Takeba had to contemplate her own life back at District 4. Her parents, such a loving couple, would - of course - welcome her with open arms. Knowing the cousins, they were glad that she lost a finger rather than her life. (Though the male cousin would, much to her chagrin, want to throw pebbles upon Joshua Rowan's body). If she were to come back home in mostly whole piece, nothing would be the same. She lost a finger; that already proved one thing. Guilt tossed out so long ago actually grew to be a weight on the heart she never needed to survive - as much as she used to think before. Takeba acknowledged that she might develop a phobia around some concept of the Hunger Games, like a weapon, death, or people with blades in general. That was upon the possibility that she made it out of the Hunger Games, the 56th one.

The pride that Takeba encaptured in the wooden figurine showed through Topaz's sly smirk, and she prepped herself for what would come next. Mentally, she said her 'thank you' for commending her in return. In a way, Topaz could be civil - even if she did not mean it. That, Takeba thought, she could understand and accept. District 1's were the most prideful of the lot; District 4's - while a part of the Career package - could borderline with the District 5's and the District 3's. As a lower Career, District 4 had less of a chance to win compared to the upper three, and mostly against District 1. Takeba embodied the District 4 spirit, and Topaz to the District 1. A more calm demeanor against the haughty, the accepting and somewhat caring to the one that though loved also killed.

Pity. Against her own nature, Takeba pitied Topaz. She had a good assumption that the District 1 redhead killed the District 2 brunette; and, from further calculations, they liked each other in a way. Exactly why would Nash follow Topaz? Anani did not do so. Takeba was left alone that day; she even cried about the bout of loneliness and suffered an attack from a mutt to prove it. Nash had survived until yesterday; Topaz was alone; Takeba was going on the assumption that they had been together until today due to the facts. Not only those, but the healing. There were many branches of love, and Topaz would never deny that even on the platonic level or lover level, she did love Nash, one way or the other.

Takeba let out a searing howl from the major stab in the calf. The blood seemingly erupted from the gash, slurped down the leg, and splattered on Topaz's sword. Afterword, she got to laughing lightly. "I pity you." She could not believe what came out of her mouth, but she went on. "The fall of Nash Harvey yesterday, would I be correct to assume that such a descent was from your own hand? For that, I pity you." Every word felt good. Pain from the isolation, the deaths of others without help, having to suffer from a District 9 boy without any assistance, every pain tinged on the words, regrettably, felt somewhat pleasurable.

Rising, Takeba reasserted her grip on the dagger. "Nash Harvey ran after you, and she had survived up to yesterday. No matter what, you cannot deny that there was some form of love between you and her. You slashed through that, eventually, for the reward of going home." Her face went neutral. "We will see how you fare with my test, accordingly. Do you deserve pursuing home when the death of a loved one is above your head?" No way was she in any right to say with a straight face about the correctness of returning to one's homeland without her own crimes. She fought back; she killed; she valued her life and a promise above others. But how much of an insult is the crime when the loved one is someone you held dear, but you decide to end them - of your own will? I will not say I understand such a concept fully.

Now having the offense and drive to return fire, Takeba attempted to ignore the warmth going down the leg. Topaz got her good. If not a gush, a whole crimson river forming a small puddle. From peripheral vision, she could see that - due to probably the sword swishing and sending dots to the ground - the body of the wooden figurine was stained with her blood. The District 4 Tribute gave off a small chuckle at a thought and returned attention to Topaz. "Bisque doll model..."

Swinging in a vertical direction, Takeba went for a return attack.

[Attacks Topaz (Knife)]
[dice=200+2000]
Shallow Cut on Back of Head (lol how did this happen?) - 4.5

Really, Takeba had told herself that at no damage would she so willingly give up the fight. Even caring enough for the District 1's strength and desire to live would not deter her from keeping her own hide. In the Arena, did Topaz ever come to think about the lives she had done in? Against their will, the alliance had mowed down Tributes without hardly any return-fire at the Bloodbath. The animals must have had some family as well. To think that the families - upon the return of the Victor - could possibly harbor an eternal grudge to the one that would come out alive, did Topaz fully contemplate such a notion? Would she even show a slight bit of remorse for the actions committed on them?

Judging by her past actions, not exactly. Possibly for Nash and her parents (after all, they birthed her), but hardly much for anyone else. From her smirks, none for the runner-up, which might as well be Takeba if she could not land more defying blows to the District 1 Tribute.

What was in the word 'Victor'? Living the highlight of Panem in the Victor's Village, recognition, glory, and seemingly endless money. Just about everyone knew that the Victor's life was one of possibly the best grandeur. Part of the deal, the family would come with; and, finally, they would appreciate their child - especially in the lower Districts, where poverty was in abundance - for their commitment and ways of killing to grant a wish that they could only experience in their dreams. Victors were to be happy beings; they survived the turmoils and the slings, made it on top, became successful individuals. Negatives, nothing. Mostly nothing.

As expected, Takeba had received a snarl of an answer back for her own cruel-like comment. A smirk creased on her face. Prideful people could not be pushed down so easily in terms of combat - unless they had been humiliated by a weak blow - but that was the key: weak. Making them feel weak was their weakness; making them feel like they were not the greatest things since the world was born was a weakness most times. By the way an answer was given through clenched teeth, Takeba struck a cord. Perhaps not her business; but, when there was the chance of dying, she was feeling a little bit more risky. The animals must have given her some of that risk-loving quality, or the adrenaline high put the District 4 girl into hysteria or madness.

"Topaz Ross of prideful District 1 cannot wrap around having some pity, it would seem," Takeba sneered. "I would wish that you would not go in a state of rage, however... I suppose this is not the time for such desires." How cold could the former-apologetic girl go? In some respects, it was like she was just another shell of a shell of the person she was; but, as she put it: "I suppose this is not the time for such desires." No more, no more. Throughout the time in the Hunger Games, any sort of mentality could be warped unconsciously. Death being a major factor in such forming was prominent and always occurring. It could be only a matter of time until the District 4 girl was cackling in the redhead's face, but she had kept herself cool against anything like that.

The 15-year old had rose a brow to the other answers. No deserving but willing to try to live? Laughable. Yet sorrowful. More pity. More pity for this girl. Well, wasn't Topaz such a crowd-pleaser? In their homes, maybe the Capitol folk were commending the efforts of the ever-so sad Topaz Ross who - to their will and want - slaughtered her own love. Certainly her attitude and personality was the fuel for the Hunger Games. Who would want Takeba Suzumi who was not a Career and gave herself up to die?

Oh, no, she was not a Career in that sense of the definition of 'training for the Hunger Games'. There was absolutely no reason for her to kill anyone. While the prospects of the money were tantalizing, fortunately, the Suzumi family was one of the fewer communities that appealed to the people rather than the commercialism of death. They honestly loved their daughter; they honestly wanted to hold her tight and never let her go. Their daughter always knew that: and that was one reason why she broke away from them. Selfish, maybe. She totally understood if she was selfish in that respect. Eventually, the time to free myself from their love would manifest either in departing from the safe haven to find another family or to go in the bloody fest here in the Hunger Games, a product of Capitol entertainment

However... I had given the ultimate gift.

A year to live to the unfortunate girl that could have possibly not have wanted to head little-by-little to the final exit: the ultimate gift. Careers, though, were not scraps of the table in District 4. Training out in the docks provided great experience for the Hunger Games offensive. Naturally, the District 4 folk were adapt in spears, nets, and braiding material. Anything relating to the water was their specialty. Well, they would also be good Careers - and there was quite a few in the District. Not that Takeba foresaw that a Career would try to usurp her position, but she denied them that good privilege. No matter who the receiver was, all she wanted to do was give.

Quite frankly, the same girl was giving something to or taking something from Topaz as well. If pride could be beaten, then it would be a lesson to all; if pride won, another lesson to all. No matter what, a lesson. Different ones, that fact would not matter. Giving a lesson on life being precious or taking that pride was not the ultimate victor, neither mattered. At the cost of Takeba's life or the surviving of, neither mattered. She was going to give or take something.

To some level of surprise for Takeba, Topaz had discovered 'her' on the ground, one piece of two. To another, she was curious on what it was. In the midst of battle, now why on earth would Topaz find 'her' body on the ground and ask the girl before her the identification of such a piece? Left to a mystery, but Takeba had chalked it up to a spur of curiosity even from the prideful. It is not a rare sight for a person to hold some form of curiosity... It is rather humorous upon how Topaz has discovered 'herself', I must admit...

In pondering, Takeba failed to see that Topaz made another attempt attack on her. No fear. No worries. Takeba lightly smirked at Topaz and pointed the dagger at her after deflecting. "That which you inquire for is, in essence, you. Your body, to be more correctly stated. I formed 'you' yesterday, and I - rudely - decapitated 'you' today." Lighter smile. "I had captured your pride - and I decapitated such a quality." Sunlight on her eyes dazzled, moving about with such a joker energy. "You are on the ground, in two."

Takeba went for a stab on Topaz, chuckling softly.


[Attacks Topaz (Knife)]
[dice=200+2000]
Deep Gash on Forehead - 9.0

This battle was going long - even without Takeba's rambling. Breathing in the smoky air was causing so many coughs and hacks to come out from the District 4 girl. If not dead from the slashes, the difficult breathing would do her in. With how much time was wasted in having the two higher-District girls exchange attacks, her mind wondered if the flames would start to encroach on them soon - to entice a faster pace. But, then again, that was no the spirit of the Hunger Games, was it? To any logical mind, there was a certain period that kept the interest of the Capitolites going. Too long, start to lose the attention; too short, that was a bore. Would the Capitol pursue such glorified action if these their children instead?

Takeba shook away the thoughts. In true spirit of retaining the interest of the masses, the flames would not be allowed to masticate on their bodies much. Little lickings here in there, more or less. Besides, as stated, the purpose of the pyre was to congregate Topaz and Takeba to a single location and not spend mindless movement to look for each other. Adversaries for every single day; action abound. The true spirit of the Hunger Games was edgy action, deception, breaking of trust, and more - not particular 'hunger' as some might think. (Though that would be a good guess: they would be 'hungry' not only for food but for victory and to return home in - mostly - one piece).

In the first days, Takeba saw to it to show no real spine or spirit to really take part in the contest. Well, really, more or less to take orders from the alliance than to 'compete' herself. Surely, they would know the best mode of operations to get through each morning and night. There was always advantages and disadvantages of being within company and just a loner, Takeba had learned. For one thing, the four could have switched night watch on the ground, share supplies, and ensure provision opportunities if, say, there was no animal to secure in the area they had chosen. By yourself, however, was the trust; you could probably trust yourself more than anyone in the Hunger Games. No poisoning, kills during sleep, the letting down in the midst of battle (as the three did for her). No, there would be none of that when being alone. Takeba learned that in the days when the members ditched her for the gruesomely big muttation.

Perhaps Topaz did not get the fact that Takeba was only further playing around with the wish to not have her angry. It still got the desired effect for her. 'Testing' was not just for the physical caliber. In a way, it was funny to the District 4 girl to watch the District 1 Tribute hiss, snarl, and show all the signs of anger and frustration - or try to keep some sort of calmness - while she was smirking, having pleasure from toying. Topaz's careless attitude towards not taking notes would be her emotional downfall. The time with the alliance was pretty short-lived; and, in all truth, Takeba was more or less quiet. In this little duel of words, it was all about knowing the opponent not in performance but in emotion.

Just about anyone can build the body, but the heart was much more harder.

"I do not indeed have much power over you," Takeba admitted. "With a few simple words, however, you seem to have gone from to a fully determined state to that of some ire." She smirked. "Your progression level in the test is hardly above three percent; barely can your patience stand my words, let alone if you were to attempt the entire population of Panem. The Victor is not only a practically-placed title."

For someone who was older, the redhead did not seem to be able the grasp the simplest of concepts that the District 4 girl was spouting out. Did she not say 'captured her pride' and cut that in two? Oh dear. Dear, sweet Topaz. Well, Takeba was already somewhat weird by the standards of the District 4 folk. She could say that she had some similar reactions just being a calm, emotionless piece of a girl and talking a lot. Where ever she went, it seemed that the label of being 'strange' and 'weird' followed the girl of fifteen years. Such a world full of people with a single mindset. Could Takeba not have wished for such an interesting universe at the same time?

Twirling the dagger, Takeba thought to have some fun with the weapon while talking. "Your actual body is not the pieces in two of which we speak about. With your head, you should think beyond and consider the words I say to you. A 'pride' is decapitated; without your heart, which is metaphorical to housing the sea of emotions, can you be so prideful or express pride, when detached from that which controls - the brain - and that which speaks - the mouth?" Her eyes stared straight into Topaz's, brows furrowed. "I would hope that if you were to return a Victor that such a lifestyle that you had before would warp to the better. You are not a sister that saved; you are a sister that succeeded."

Oh, no, perhaps Takeba did not acknowledge the existence of Sapphire Ross; but, again, the girl from the ocean District meant in a figurative sense. A sister, her 'sister', a combatant of the Hunger Games. They were a family composed of sisters and brothers, muttations as pets, and Gamemakers as parents that held hardly a care for them. This was their dog-eat-dog world: to kill each other, as kin of the blood spray. What of the alliance, then? What was that for a Takeba Suzumi? Perhaps that was more of a nuclear family, and any alliances beyond the first was like marrying into another. Well, certainly, in the past days, Takeba had tried to 'hook up' with two other males for support; neither time or fate wanted to grant her the opportunity of conversing with those two, however.

Out of happenstances, Takeba had struck Topaz twice in the head. Was this figuratively done, as well? She shook her head at the redhead. "I had no such intention of striking twice at your head; but, if you would like to think of such as being figurative in meaning, I will allow you to do so." Or, perhaps, there is more to this spectacle than what is presented on the outside. By strokes of luck, maybe I am attempting to decapitate your 'prideful' aspects hiding in the mind rather than the heart - or which can be expressed in any other body parts. I would not be surprised.

Topaz gestured over at the sculpture; and, in thought of being asked a question following up, Takeba had looked over and lost in concentrating on the foe lunging at her. Not able to dodge or block in time, she suffered an cut at the back of her head, and Takeba took a moment to hold the wound, feeling the crimson make her hair sticky and back warm as a dying fire. Looking downward, the girl remembered the locket around her neck, twirling near her chest. Embarrassingly, the Tribute girl almost forgot that such a trinket existed on her presence. Her left hand gripped around the golden accessory, and she could have sworn to hear the locket music playing in her ears. Even with that delusion, however, could her thought not comprehend the initials inside. ZF. At this rate, the girl would not be able to know the person behind ZF, but the fact of not knowing did resolve her determination against Topaz.

"What will you provide outside of this battle, Topaz Ross of District 1? District 4, my home, is a half-breed of Careers and the underprivileged, and some of them might say that you are a typical 'hothead'. Someone who thinks for pride, with pride, and desires pride. What character will you show me - and the rest of Panem - or do you show no sign of care for such an exposure?"

Another attack on the District 1 Tribute.

[Attacks Topaz (knife)]
[dice=200+2000]
Block - 0.0

Toying around with someone's emotion was a little bit amusing. Would someone thrash around like some deranged monster and want to decapitate the person, or would they be off on their game? Either way, both reactions were pretty silly. The one that had the reactions was expected to be some sort of child in terms of not being unaffected by someone's words. Not to say - in Takeba's mind - that Topaz was some child; after all, such a ploy was a bit shallow and unfair when the other party could not take advantage of the same strategy. Note-taking was key to the tactic; without gathering information, the plan would not have worked at all. Truthfully, Takeba should have felt a bit of guilty - even when the she would not have done something close to playing around with someone's emotions before.

Give herself credit? Topaz was the one being irked with words. Takeba let out a soft chuckle tinged with haughty determination. Everything figurative seemed to escape this redhead, didn't it? Of course she would - at least - credit herself for penetrating a little inside the head of her opponent with words alone - much to the chagrin of her parents. Perhaps the family did not appreciate such ploys; would they forgive her for that? No, maybe not. Maybe they would not be able to forgive her for changing in the slightest bit. Though established that they would be grateful for her win, they would acknowledge the loss of her character. Did that mean - exactly - that Takeba wanted to win this competition?

No. Oh, no. Because in her head, she thought of either 'winning' or 'losing' to be winning on her part. Topaz winning would be her winning; she winning would be her winning. Two types. In the first one, she could honestly say she kept on being human; in the second, that she survived being in the grasp of the fire and cold depicted in the metaphysical Hell.

"I will be watching. Never from my lips did I speak out the desire to - per say - slay you." Smirk. "I will be watching the Victor either way." Either from the kingdom of the above or below or the kingdom of the lands, I shall be watching. She threw a sneaky glance at the redhead. Would Topaz's confidence be enough to withstand the people, and could her heart be so cold to do anything below what Takeba expected? The District 4 had to show her own confidence in front of someone so full of pride: her own refined determination.

Grasping around the locket and pulling powerfully, the 15-year old broke the chain. While smirking, the girl opened the accessory. Piano music flowed out of the tiny thing, and the initials ZF flashed in the sun. Nothing but the letters was inside, an empty locket minus the music coming out. Throughout the Hunger Games, Takeba had cleaned the jewelry if any blood happened to land itself on the golden piece. Now, she did not particularly care. The last battle would result in either her death or Topaz's; and, at this rate, she was going down.

She chucked the locket at Topaz, showing some anger on her face - but also determination. She did not mind that the locket would be stained in the puddles of blood. Instead, she smirked. "A beautiful song for this spectacle. If you so win, the token of the semi-finalist could fetch a little more for your family, or so remind you of the obstacles you had overcome - even slaying your love." Takeba rose the dagger to chin-level. "I will not forget either way, and you will not either. And if you must think my rambles are unnecessary, I am making a little out of my possible last moments in this world."

Disregarding the other statements proved that the District 4 was cutting back on the words. Some effect played on Topaz's emotion; just her reactions was a testament to that fact, to Takeba. In the Hunger Games - and even just living through District life - of course she had taken note of the actions of others. Actions spoke more than words at times, true. Being someone of little activity, though, Takeba had felt the need to elaborate. Not only that but she had taken after her mother, who had the same problem. She had not taken after her father, who was the silent one, her role model of action being more than words. Such a quaint, happy family of contradictory natures. If he was born, what would Takeba's little brother say or do?

Such questions were considered by the younger Tribute. What-if scenarios were common when the girl was living in the District; she had a lot of time to contemplate many events, especially when whittling. Her curiosity in learning and expanding knowledge were among the reasons of her speech; sometimes, though, this drove away many a person from approaching her, in avoidance of dictionary talk. Yet he did not mind in the slightest. He had only told her to shush the mouth because it was giving him a major migraine, rather than trying to understand what she was saying over seventy percent of the time.

Taking time to look at the locket, Takeba gazed at the structure playing music in some blood. If he were watching the Hunger Games, what would he say to his name being stained in the crimson of her opponent and herself? When the memories played, Takeba was sure that he would not have cared in the slightest; in fact, he might have said, "Whatever." It did not matter to her, but she clung onto the memories so dearly. If I were to not keep in my possession the object of my affection, so must I retain the moments and remembrances of his presence.

She spoke softly: "My love is also on the ground, in blood."

Are you ashamed in any way of my actions and words? Are you watching at all of my progress? Sometimes I wonder if, suppose, that you had made the full journey to another District that you graciously said to me.

Did you make it?

The dagger reached out to attack Topaz.

[Attacks Topaz (Knife)]
[dice=200+2000]
Shallow Cut on Cheek - 3.5

Takeba could not muster the energy anymore. Even talking was becoming hard to do - even with her years of being so loquacious. Was this what death felt? Was this what it felt to have all the blood in your system so small from the wounds that you felt like nothing? She was emotionally nothing before; the Arena had fixed that. Now she was drained of crimson spirit, and the blood took away the focus to keep on moving. Desire to be in motion, existed no more. No wonder the dead did not move anymore in battle; sometimes the drain in blood was too much for them. So was it for Takeba. In other Hunger Games, some Tributes would spit out blood, cough it out, stabbed through the stomach. No such warmth filled the District 4's mouth. All she felt was the sudden inability to move; it felt - in a way - cold to her.

Instead, she began to cry, the dripping tears streaking purification through the signs of battle. It hurt to try to move. She could not do it anymore. She wanted someone to help her; she wanted someone to hold her. This was too painful, both in an emotional and physical way. The battle with Joshua Rowan had sapped away half of her vitality, but that was nothing compared to the battle with Topaz Ross.

She did not want to fight anymore. She was giving up.

In this moment, she was regaining all the emotion that a girl her age should have on average. Takeba's blade dropped from her hand, splashing in the puddle of crimson. Through crying, the 15-year old girl could hear the words of her opponent, former ally, and final person to see. Did it matter at this point that she did not need and would not want to sell the District 4's token? Vitality was being erased. Nothing mattered. Soon, she would be somewhere away from here, from the bloodshed she did not particularly want but did so anyways because she wanted to give up a year for someone else in the District to live.

And so she succeeded. Now ending with her.

Her arms were drooped to the sides, and Takeba could see Topaz's blade going for her. She knew it; with how little energy was left in her body, she acknowledged that this next swing would be all that she could take. As a marionette, this would be the swing that would cut the strings and let her drop to the ground.

And just like a marionette, she was going to smile during the fall and long after.

Another attack to the back of her head. Takeba could feel the gush of thick, warm liquid flowing once more down the back and through the hair. The knees that shook finally caved in. Her tears stopped while the blood did not. She crashed onto the floor, the left side of her face landing in a large pool of her life - she could only assume. No more. No more moving for her. Everything was heavy. She thought her body would not be so because of such a humongous loss of blood, but she had taken into account that her brain and heart was being deprived of such an essential thing. That gravity was taking its toll on her now frail vessel of a body. Without the strings, she was glossed, polished wood. Without some master to control over her, she was just about limp as anything could be.

Breathing in blood and smoke was a horrible combination, but she thought herself dead anyways. Let her lungs fill with blood though not before the memories flowed in as her ears continued to pick up the piano music from the locket. There was her love, a wandering man that told her to shut up because she was giving him a migraine. Perhaps she took her respect for someone so cold but helpful to a far too great level; but, now lying in blood, could she even fathom that she was too much in love for him?

Were you even watching? She could not speak so vocally; even thinking was getting harder to do.

Takeba, lying in the blood, got to thinking about her past.

As a child, she did not know so much of an expansive vocabulary but was still just as talkative. There she was, smiling, laughing as she blew out the candles to the cake. Everyone was so proud of her for that. When her cousins would ask what she wished, the younger Takeba would say that that was a secret. Toys were not really her thing; not yet could she accept the concepts of poverty and the pursuit of truth. She was quite easily pleased for her age.

Her wish on having more refined piano-playing skills. That way, she told herself, she could make someone cry with joy or uplift someone's sadness with absolute happiness.

She supposed that backfired; only she was crying towards the music.

With how much death the girl had gone through, Takeba did not dare to venture back to the death of her friend. Time was running short on a wire. The music was beginning to diminish from her ears. She did not want the eventual phenomenon to manifest upon her, but it was either her or Topaz. The District 1 girl had won; Takeba could not deny that it was her on the floor, now wishing desperately that she could have just a few more minutes to ponder on her life; but, she had given up the pursuit to stay alive to just keep reminiscing.

The bench. Where she had left home. Takeba was sitting on the park bench, pondering where she would go. She could leave the District, find a home elsewhere, but what of her family? She had the drive to leave but she did not at the same time. Her cousins would be horrified; her mother would cry that her daughter left while her father would comfort. The girl could not decide whether to be selfish or to go on the impulse that her presence was a burden for everyone else. After all, she was not eating; the meals were still being cooked for three, and she outright shook her head on eating. It was like that they did not know that she was failing to be human - or even a living being. So Takeba had sat on the bench, looking straight ahead, her back erect.

Not long a man in raggedy clothes had approached the bench, gruff and lips pressed tight with brows furrowed. Judging from his appearance, Takeba had to guess that he was about four years older. She had never seen such a face before - and the eyes were red, as though he was albino. Frankly, she had stared at the figure, wondering if he would take a seat beside her; yet, she could detect that he was hesitating, and something told her that he was not willing to do so because she was on the bench. Patting the seat next to her and speaking a few words, the younger Takeba insisted that he was allowed to take it; but, through black hair, the glare spoke more than she ever could: he did not want to. Not only to add but the scowl indicated that she was being annoying.

She had inquired what was the matter with his being, and he had replied that she was pretty annoying with her speech and inability to keep quiet. Yet Takeba had continued on, simply because he seemed to be in a state that was not fine. Defying his command only got him angrier. She had silenced herself. Something must have pierced through his cold shell, though, because he had taken the seat next to her, arms folded, scowling.

"Go home."
"I do not desire to wish such a burden on my family, for they are such wonderful people with the biggest---"
"Don't you ever shut up, Annoying? Just go home. Will get killed out of the District and you're too young. Stop being a nuisance for everyone. Leaving them is leading me to have a migraine with your mouth that won't shut up."