blackwater fallout. arcadia, d4, day 6.
Dec 24, 2023 8:35:50 GMT -5
Post by ines izar d11a 🖤 cait on Dec 24, 2023 8:35:50 GMT -5
There’s a memory –
Of my first day of training. Of clutching Alexandra’s hand like a lifeline, because even though she was only two years older than me, she felt like a full-fledged adult at nine years old. There was nervous excitement and a glowing pride in my tiny chest. I remember Alexandra smiling down at me in approval, seeing mum and dad reflected in her gaze. I remember picking up my first weapon that week, but being told we wouldn’t get to use it for a long while. That type of power was earnt; life was something to be revered, respected.
There’s a memory –
Of the first time I hurt someone. I remember the shock of the vibrations rattling in my wrist as I made contact, split skin open. I remember the initial rush of adrenaline at having successfully fulfilled my task, only to be quickly replaced by a heavy guilt that made tears spring in my eyes. I’d been teased for that, a little bit. For my softness; for being nothing like the legacy Alexandra Lumiere-Fray’s younger sister was expected to be.
I remember realising I was never going to be the kind of Career Alexandra was. And I remember vowing that despite that, I would still grow up to be just as successful and regarded as the rest of my sparkling family.
Even if it killed me.
Several things happen in tandem.
The spatters of blood in the water shift to a full-on stream. I don’t know where I end and Roe begins.
Sacrifice hits Vin.
Roe’s head turns to face me and I finally catch sight of the damage I’d done – the dent in the side of his head.
I slip under the surface one more time.
I kick harder than I’ve ever kicked before.
My head pops out of the water and I can’t swallow down lungfuls of air fast enough.
Vin kills Sacrifice.
Roe’s grasp loosens, finally; I try not to think about what that means. Focus instead on dragging myself the last few metres through the water and hoisting myself onto the dock, slippery with struggle.
I’m fucking exhausted.
Crawling around on my hands and knees, coughing up salt water and purging the swallowed contents of my stomach, I can barely catch my breath before the sound of a cannon fires. I freeze, paranoid it’s my own death being signalled. I hold a hand to my panting chest just to check my heart is still beating.
It is.
Sacrifice’s chest doesn’t move when I scan over her body.
I scurry over to her side and hold her hand. It feels like the right thing to do. I hadn’t known her well enough to call her a friend, necessarily, but I’d like to think we could have been. For Tigs, for her, I would make their deaths worth something.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Find peace,” I plead.
The second cannon follows quickly – it’s too soon, too much to recover from, this double blow on the shores of a deadly District replica. Because if I’m alive, and I saw Vin cut down Sacrifice, that only means one thing.
From the ground, I look towards the water.
Observe the eerie calmness.
Feel my hands start to shake.
Roe is in there. He needs to get out. He needs to be saved. I need to get him, because nobody is coming to save either of us except ourselves, right?
But would he do the same for you?
The hesitation is only a moment. But it’s there all the same.
And by the time I decide to do the decent, human thing and fish his body out – even if it is a hopeless endeavour – Vin has me beat. They don’t even look my way before diving into the water, and I’m too stunned to make a move to help them.
“I–”
But what can I say? I’m sorry? I was about to jump in and try and save him? None of these things are truthful, and we both know they’re just empty words at this point.
I had to kill him.
I have to kill them all.
I have to kill Vin.
My hands shake harder than ever.
Waterlogged and desperate and determined not to let a single damn tear fall, I grab my belongings and run as far away from Vin as I can.
DARS
