rumour has it; [Misfit Toys vs Bros] (Day 5)

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

There was so little change in the landscape Mace couldn't be sure if he was awake or dreaming. The woods had been one thing; lines of blue against the desolate grey. But now, the tundra stretched on and on. Endless fluff. He couldn't even see the horizon, and the days were endless here. He might as well have been asleep, for how sunken and distant his mind was. Something odd had happened that morning, but he had been fooled by shroom flashbacks throughout the night. He was wary even when he thought of it, in case he brought on another attack. All he knew was the weight in his pack had changed. It was less awkward, smaller somehow, but also heavier. He didn't want to check.

And he couldn't quite bring himself to ask Alexander what had happened since they left the woods. Mace had no idea how the other tribute was faring, if he felt the effects of the shrooms quite so long and harshly. He had to focus on his feet, his toes, the movement forward. In this pale land, his body was the only thing he could truly count as real.

The crunch crunch crunch of the snow at their feet became hollow, background noise. He might have missed it, or considered the sound part of something from the diamond world, but it was too close, too immediate not to check. The knife that came into his palm was one of the better ones, with a secure connection between the hilt and the blade, and a good balance throughout. He trusted it, as he did not trust the figures in the snow.

[[Mace attacks Charas; thrown knife]]
[dice=200+9000]
Deep Gash on Stomach -- 9.0 damage

Sawyer Monaghan

Night falls again bringing with it an even deeper chill than the previous day. It really would be no surprise if someone just dropped dead. I look at my companion with a mixture of apprehension and confusion. She attacked me earlier today, stabbed my arm so hard Its a wonder it didn't fall off. My best guess is that she had a hallucination of some sort. It's either that or she has tired of my company. That would be quite saddening indeed. But, it's time to get a little distracted as the anthem plays its sodding music.

...

Ah. I knew Shayde's face would be on display tonight. I just didn't know that it would be the first. He did not cry out, nor did he seem truly surprised when he died, it was if he new what was coming. Shayde Truedheart remains the bravest person I have met this week. Other than him there are not many deaths this day. I don't know if this fact should be comforting or not. It increases the chances that I will once again meet blade with blade. Or softer things like well, people. The only other face that appears is that of the District eleven male, a tall blond that I remember helped destroy tributes at the cornucopia.

It would appear that his teammates tired of his presence. Either that or he froze, or maybe had his face chewed off by some unholy creature. The ways of perishing in this arena are more than one would think. Yet another way would be from starvation I am reminded of this as my stomach reminds me that I have not eaten in a few days. I have need to find food sooner rather than later. Sleep eludes me for a few more hours before the sandman claims me.

******

Day breaks and I find myself wandering through this frozen wasteland once more. After shaking off the snow that gathered on top of me as I slumbered. It takes some time, but the trees begin to grow more and more sparse before disappearing altogether. The landscape becomes a wide expanse of snow through which tiny bushes and shrubs poke out, dotting the ground in little blurs that I can scarcely see through the snow that falls all around me. I am thankful once again for having grabbed snowshoes for I and Charas days ago. It wouldn't do to trip on something hidden by the snow. I have a feeling that some might trip and just not have the energy to stand back up.

Through the gathering storm two figures become revealed. Part of me hopes that its that polite Asian girl again. At least someone else doesn't see fighting as a first response. However, as Charas once again dashes forward and sends a small spray of blood into the air I know that the time for conversation has likely already passed. The pair in front of me are decidedly male. One I know is from district ten, he was one of those who lecherously leered at Charas in the training center; A time and place that feels so far away. The other is very bundled up and is likely also one of the four I decided to avoid at the cornucopia.

Crud.

The brunette boy hurls something in Charas's direction and she cries out. A small hilt juts from her bleeding stomach and I realize he has throwing knives in his possesion. Well. Two can play at that game. I send a dagger of my own whizzing towards his companion.

[Attacks Alexander]
[dice=200+9000]
-- Severed Finger -- 8.5 damage

The miniscule blade hits the other boys hand and falls away... along with a finger, sending a spurt of blood into the air that sickens me. It would appear that my aim with these tiny bites of death is improving. Who would have thought we'd have to fight again so soon?

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

You'd think, after the last disastrous attack-first-ask-questions-later bit, Mace would have learned. But that just wasn't in his wiring. The knife, his loyal companion, somersaulted into the girl's stomach. Already he had another in his hand, taking aim, when Mace finally focused long enough on her face (which wasn't generally a target zone for the blade, given the low chance of success). He blinked, a brief respite from his dead eyes. He knew her. Charas. He licked his top chapped lip, could still taste her in that sterile elevator. She had been warm, and tense, and full of life. Mace especially remembered the hardpack of her muscles under that lean form. It had been why, perhaps, he was the only tribute not surprised by her in the Bloodbath.

But oh he remembered that too now, and the fact that he hesitated at all grated against him. Hadn't Cygnus warned him about this, precisely? Women were trouble. They could not be trusted. Or was it that he could not be trusted around them? No matter. He certainly wasn't in love with her, and he doubted she would stop at killing him either. Mercy have him, though, if he didn't wish he could be back in that elevator, hands in her hair, around her neck, at her hips. The vision stoked the heat in his blood, fueled the coals in his stomach. Desire and rage - how close they came to being the same thing in his body.

Mace caught a glimpse of red to his side, knew that once again Alexander was taking the brunt of the attacks. The haze of the diamond world had been difficult to sort out, but through the sleepless night he had remembered a few things. And Mace was pretty sure the slash across his chest had been his fault, could fester and leave him with only one brother left, somewhere wandering the arena.

He wasn't about to let that happen. "Hey,

Sawyer Monaghan

"Some say the world will end in fire,Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great and would suffice."
- Robert Frost

Charas exclaims that she has found a boat. Leave it up to her to find a freakin boat in the middle of a frozen grassland. I can only assume that this vehicle was left here for tributes to use. There must be unfrozen water somewhere in the arena. Water. Bah. Drowning is the most unpleasant way to die that I can think of and I'm not so keen on having my lungs fill up and burst. It's unsanitary is what it is. Still, It might be fun to pretend to be a pirate or something. Is it so wrong to just want to act like a kid? Even a midst this land of terror and death Its still possible to forget the bloodshed, even for a moment. The snowball fight with her taught me that. I catch myself grabbing at the cigarette around my neck. The shakes went away at sometime during the night, but I still want to inhale its smoky tang.

It is imperative that you hold onto something to remind you who you are. many are the tributes who have gone insane within the confines of this hellhole. I don't plan on being one of them. Unless of course I already am. Someone once told me it was better to be insane and know it than to be sane and question your own sanity. I don't think I really knew what that meant until now. At any right I'm likely thinking too hard for someone currently engaged in a fight to the death. To my right, the only female in our austere company launches herself at the bundle boy. She misses. I thinkI know why as well. She has been making eyes at the taller tribute for the past few minutes now. I thought he was one of the ones she was trying to avoid? Perhaps I have misjudged her.


It could be my imagination but I think he is leering at her as well. There is something going on here that I do not know. Whatever the case, he speaks through his teeth and admonishes me to pick on someone my own size. As he says this he sends another knife towards Charas. What a tool. The other boy draws a wicked looking blade. I don't know what he expects to do with it but I had best be on my guard. The bigger the weapon the m-

...

I... What?

The blade has bitten deep into Charas's neck, It's a wonder it wasn't severed. She falls so fast I have no time to react.


I am frozen.

I stand by her side, my heart pounding, my mind not believing what I see. Blood pools out from her throat and her eyes stare unseeing, the fire of life absent from her iris's. It is likely she was dead before she even hit the ground, I find my throat constricting in an uncomfortable way as hot tears find their way down my cheek cooling and leaving little trails of frost on my face. She has been my constant companion since the first day, and a welcome distraction in her own right. And soon she will be just another corpse inside another wooden box. It's just not right. My heart aches and yet I find myself without words. She was not a lover of mine; she was only an acquaintance and yet I feel as if a dear friend has departed from me. I told myself earlier on that the deeper the attachment the more grief you will feel when the time comes. And come it will for there can only be one. "Farewell." I whisper, and yet the words seem hollow in my ears. For the second time in two days I close the eyes of a fallen comrade.

But I cannot forget about the pair who even now might be circling me like a pair of hawks. Now is not the time to show weakness, and so I straighten, fixing the two with a hard stare, my eyes glancing from Charas's pack to the boat and back to the two tributes. Everyone has a fight or flight response. When the adrenaline is pounding most people will find themselves hightailing it out of wherever they are, or attacking with renewed fervor. However, most people hardly ever seek to explore a third option. The option of staying and fighting will likely lead to my death. The option of running will likely lead to death by exposure to the elements. And so, though the taste is bitter in my mouth, I must talk to these two in manner befitting their sensibilities.

Sheathing my weapon as a show of good faith, I extend a hand towards the pair, while motioning with the other to the boat. "Put away the blades boys," I say in what I hope is a commanding tone. "The way I see it, the pair of you are short on companions. As luck would have it, so am I. There is strength in numbers, and it'll take all of us to carry this boat." I pause before going forward with my words. "We all know that only one of us can go home. Why not increase our chances for the time being? Three can take on more than two or one." I cease talking and let my words sink in.

Some capitolites might be watching this on their screens at home and be wondering why I am not avenging Charas or something like that. It's simple. Revenge holds no purpose in this place. Those who seek revenge generally die in a blaze of glory. I'm not the vengeful type and I know I'm not the physically strongest tribute in this place. But then again, all the muscles in the world won't help you when a knife is in your gut or a spear in your face. The dozens of careers moldering in their graves can attest to that. No, the games are not really about being the strongest or swiftest; though that can help. Its more about survival; about what you are willing to do to survive and how much humanity you lose along the way.

Does wanting to join up with these two make me a bad person? Does it make me coldhearted? Perhaps. But cold is what this arena has made me.

You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul...