crying in the bleachers | slay v adepti v niko, day 5

e l m  -  e r r i n g t o n

Filler because my life ceases to have a moment of chill this week:

Elm gives Niko a look^TM.

"It will if you keep talking," they sneer.

niko






































It's becoming increasingly apparent that Elm is not a Niko fan. They have gifted him another crack in the jaw in response to his latest remarks. Stumbling backwards, he can't even cough without pain racking his body. He's not sure what he needs to support, one hand gripping his side in pain, the other waving the katana about desperately.

"It will if you keep talking,"

It feels like a cruel trade. Niko, slowly slicing Elm up with what feels like a few paper cuts in comparison to what they are gifting him in return. With each break from Elm's powerful weapon, Niko could feel his will to continue draining away bit by bit. Elm on the other hand, appears to continue to stand strong, Niko's sword having no effect besides drawing the smallest sample of blood.

The adrenaline courses through him, the pain receding to a loud whisper as he readies his weapon again. Each movement sends a reminder of his broken bones coursing through his body, but Niko knows he can't stop. Not yet. Not even as the limbs of the other tributes around him go flying and as the Elm bares down on him with their instrument of pain.

He opens his mouth to say something witty, but just as he begins to breath the first syllables, he needs to let out a gasp of pain. No, there's no more talking to be done here. Closing his mouth, Niko sets his grim face, trying to keep it steady and ignore the pain emanating through his jaw. His hands, gripped tight against the hilt of the blade, prepares for the next attack.

There's no more talking he can do. Elm had just done what Itzal, Mirage, and hordes of mutts couldn't do: shut Niko up.

And Niko doesn't really like being quieted.

attacks elm w/ katana
bmBqmfo08Osword
[sc because what else is new]

---

This was the part I was dreading. It was hard enough, seeing Francine have to finish what I couldn't. But now there was this: the boy from Eight's spear glided through the skin of my back my butter. I groaned into a shriek into a sigh- this. She was going to see me die. She'd see it again and again if she was going to survive, but- me. Maybe I was a narcissist but I liked to think I... Well, I'd like to think I mattered. At least to one person- at least to her. And I hoped she heard the words I said and believed them to be true. I hoped-

No.

I wasn't dead yet. And I promised her I would try. I couldn't help the steady sobs, the whimpers. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to run and escape and I wanted Francine to somehow also get away and I wanted to hide someplace none of the other tributes would dare to go, maybe the deepest part of the forest or the highest point of the mountain, and I wanted to stay there until the end. But it wasn't reality; it couldn't be. Please, please, please-

Svetlana's lifeless body at the ground next to me, the boy from Eight probably still thinking he could save her until- BOOM. The sound of a cannon rattled through my bones. I stumbled away, heels catching on the back end of my skirt and sending me to the rocky ground. I clamored desperately as I tried to right myself and put more distance between us. Francine- Me. Me. Elm- No. Austin, I-

My mother's hand tugging my chin higher into the air. I-

wanted

to live.

"No!"

I think I hoped it would be enough to save me, but I knew it wouldn't be, deep down. Did I run? Did I choose myself? Eyes flicked to Francine, then to Theo, then to my own blood smeared across my palms.

I stayed.