Small Hands {Avon Day 1}

No nonsense voice
Talking
Doing
Deep thought
Hearing
Singing

Was this her?

She was trudging along, trying not think about the bone that was surely broken, one of her most powerful weapons. Her shin. How could she be so stupid as to miss blocking it. No doubt, Alphonse would be upset with her poor technique. She could imagine it, the both of them sitting in the tree after a long night of fighting. They'd both have climbed up as high as possible, and be lounging like cats, while he noted everything she did wrong. Then it would be her turn to talk about everything he did wrong. Maybe an odd relationship to some people's standards. But standards have and will always be a stupid thing in Avon's view. They've never really been something that the Lightwood family have stuck to. Now, she felt like she was in the forerunning for the horrible moral award.

She had killed a person once. Her stepfather, Xavier. Riley always swore that it was him, he threw the jacks. But he wouldn't have any jacks to through if it weren't for Avon, and Avon wouldn't have any jacks to give him if it weren't for Keela. They all did it, they all killed him. It had probably been the most personal thing Avon had ever taken part in. It had felt so good, to kill him. It had been freeing. But now Avon was set apart, she ould never go back. She had killed two people, let her bloodlust take her, and had stabbed a boy through the heart, and taken another girl's leg, then dealt the killing blow. The worst part of that, was that she had really enjoyed that. It had not bothered her one bit at the time killing those people. It was the most impersonal thing she had ever done.

Would they even recognize her now? She was still wearing the earmuffs, but the cloak had slipped off at some point while she had been escaping. She was spattered in all kinds of blood, she didn't even know how many were dead after that bathing of blood. and here she was, stumbling along, almost dragging herself with a severed leg. There was still a shoe attached, and the leg of a jumpsuit. she had heard of a tribute that had gone bonkers in the games, and attacked people with legs. Aesop Bloom, that had been his name. She let out a rough groan as she set too much weight on her shin, and cursed, clenching her bottom lip down. She would have to stop in the open sands and bandage her leg. So she took out five feet of bandage and wrapped it around her shin a good many times.

It felt better, but it didn't change much. She had taken a fire making station during training, and right now her goal was to get to the thicket so that she could collect firewood. If she kept a mind on her goal, she didn't have to pay attention to the blood that was sticking and crusting to her. Or to the fact that her siblings might be seeing her right now, all weak and broken. Adjusting her backpack, Avon pushed the dead faces out of her mind. They were dead. She wouldn't think about the flow of blood, or the hate filled and hopeless eyes. Or the way that she had attacked people out of pleasure while they blocked out of fear. She really was an animal, a robotic wolf. Greedy and soulless.

She pulled her compass out of her bag, and let it lead her away, hopefully to where the thicket was. Her stride was a bit better now with the tightness of the bandage, and Avon had never been one to let mere physical pain get to her. She'd be alright. She'd be fine.

ooc: Avon uses five feet of bandage, putting her at eighteen damage.