.: With the Words of a Love {Song} // CDK vs SIAHL

The sandy floors itch furiously at my feeble skin that had tinted slightly in the previous days - it wasn't common to be less than pale, pale white, but these days nothing was as common as it was before. Life before the games was becoming nothing but a feeble memory holding on to a string, hanging off a cliff waiting at any second to fall to it's death, perhaps that was an easier way to go about. Maybe life before the dreaded castle was easier to forget. Forgetting all the good times would only shroud life in a sort of grey veil - perhaps life was sadder now, but it had become nothing but the norm. People were meant to die, and here it was sooner rather than later. If only I could grasp on to that thin veil and accept the way that life had quickly become, it would be way easier.

A tan, itchy sand, and a castle I'd come to call home.

Home was a weird sentiment to accept. Noah, Nino, Jude, it seemed all like a faint glowing memory, a lightbulb ready to flicker out and die. The paper bag he held deep in his pockets was all that remained of the boys who walked in the night time collecting from bodies. Night time was no longer an excuse to go on secret missions and carry out the family business, night time wasn't as happy, nor grim, night time was a tap on the shoulder as soon as sleep had taken you in it's grasp telling you it was "your turn for watch." It was listening to the haunting melodies of the anthem and watching the faces in the night sky as they flashed one last smile telling you, "Hey, you just might win." Hey, you just might go home. How was it possible that the boy who once dug out graves to disturb the homes of the dead, call a castle his home? From grave robber to king, it was no easy ladder to scale. And yet, it felt as if it were almost so easy, like such a long time coming.

Night at home was so different. The dead silence that danced gracefully through the alliance was worse than when Pandora's face flashed up in the sky - as unexpected as that was, this was worse. Completely and totally expected and yet, it shook every bone in his body, and every piece of flesh that slowly wilted away. Night was the only time I'd moved in hours, the screaming belting notes of the anthem trembled through the castle walls announcing it's presence. Like a zombie through the night, I walked towards the castle opening looking for the sky. I wasn't injured, and yet the walls became nothing but a tool to help me stand and guide myself to the walls. I was injured in a way that couldn't be fixed by any medicine or bandages. With a heart ripped to shreds by a bitch in blonde, I watched the night sky break the darkness with grim images.

The boy from Two showed up first - his arrogant smile teasing the rest of us. I'd seen him die, and been a part of his fall, and yet he was nothing. Not a tick on my weapon, nothing but a silly boy who'd been partners with a killer. But I suppose we were all killers now - Destiny, Klaus, and I. Someone had fallen at each of our hands, and remorse didn't even seem to want to call me a friend. It was non-existent, it always had been about protecting her and bringing her home, and remorse had never played a factor in these Games, though surely it had for some. But with so few left, there was hardly a chance that none of them had deaths on their hands or weapons - this was now a game for a winner.

Her face looked normal. There was no dirt lining the contours of her face from fights, no small scratches lining her body to indicate that a fight had even happened. Her hair still messy, a girl with a certain charm even in the pictures that signified her - pause. It was only hours ago that she finally drowned. The girl that endlessly dreamed of falling in the ocean and drowning finally fell into the rocky waters and could no longer breathe. Sixteen years spent endlessly swimming to the top - and I thought I could prolong her paddling and lay her to rest above the water, giving her air in exchange for life. But even life couldn't tame the crazy currents that pulled and tugged at her feet and the seaweed that laced and tethered around her body teasingly. I was nothing but a distraction in the sun teasing at her certain doom.

I couldn't save her from drowning.

As quick as her face had appeared, it faded away. The last horn, the last showing of beautiful Penelope Libertine's face before it sank beyond the night clouds forever. She was now drowning up there - wherever there may be. Cyrus - the boy from Six - his face showed up next. I hadn't seen his happy face amongst the crowd at the feast, only meaning he'd chosen to toy with the howling Kraken - and had faced the consequences. If it only it were as easy as drowning out at sea, or having giant tentacles wrapped around your neck, until you couldn't breathe. But, we'd chosen to fight amongst the killers, fight along those that were like us, and there wasn't a shred of regret in that. Cyrus, the Kraken Slayer, disappeared just as fast as Pen had - that was three more faces hugging the constellations in the nights sky, and only seven more surrounding me on the playing field, two were my friends, three were hanging from a wall, one killed Pen, and the other was who I only assumed to be the killer of the monstrous beast.

I didn't move that night.

Despite the rowdy attempts of Destiny and Klaus to get up and get going, I couldn't move. The castle walls only held the memories of the queen herself, and the room locked with seaweed held the sinking sand of her body shape, and the blood that spattered across those grains. Yet, in there were three kids that the seaweed had tangled in it's grasp, waiting. Jae Moreno - the boy from District One who had such a sweet face, yet his brother's reputation swam over him. Mahlah something, I'd never bothered to learn her full name, this wasn't time for pleasantries, the little girl from Klaus' District who seemed so cute and innocent, she didn't belong in a game of life and death. Lastly, Elon Emberstatt. The boy whose brother had won so long ago, the sweet boy who had hosted a party which seemed like so long ago, the boy who was bound to die. A victors brother. All looking pale as ghosts trapped on a wall - surely they weren't ghosts though, I'd done enough in my lifetime to know that if they existed, my soul would be so full of their burdens I couldn't walk. But I'd barely managed to make it back into the room, so maybe I should be doubtful.

The sticky seaweed twirled and dropped them like rain from a cloud and I was waiting. With my cummerbund around my wrist and the cutlass I'd only gotten yesterday in it, and my harpoon nestled in my left hand, it was time to go. Another ghost in my soul, another ghost closer to home.

"I'm sorry."

[Graphic Credit to the Wonderful Amazing South]

When does one crack?

Is it as easy as the fates snapping their deadly black scissors along your hair of life, or is it as complicated as finding a way to kill your friends? There are eight of us left, one of them is me, and two are my friends. How long will we play this game of being buddy buddy and pretending all is perfectly fine when in only a few short days, maybe less, our faces will grace the sky for their last will and testament, their last hoorah? But, there's something that makes me feel, wish, want, hope that I'll never be looking down from the starry sky, never watch the remaining players as they laugh, cheer, or cry over the death of the fourth Ripley boy. Somewhere deep down inside of me, there's a twitch, a little buzz humming that maybe I'll be the last standing in this sandcastle. I'll be the last living feet to hit this ground, and bury my feet in its sands. I'll be the last one to kiss the spot where the Queen died. Maybe, just maybe I'll spend the nights whispering soft goodbyes to my friends as they say goodbye. Maybe it'll be none of us who end up winning.

But, what if that little buzz is nothing more than my hair of life vibrating ever so quickly, humming out beats as it dances away crazily trying not to - snap, Destiny yells and kicks and screams. I'll kill you. I'll kill you. The wicked shrieks of terror envelop this room like never before. So much time had been spent in this room, fighting, too many deaths of mutts and people and queens and hope. Lots of hope had been killed over and over again, not only here, in this room laced with slimy plants, but everywhere in Panem. Sixteen tributes had already waved goodbye, leaving hope behind and dying, sixteen dead. Those sixteen had families, and friends and their hope is also lost, thrown away like a wish in a well, never to be seen again as they cry and run and hurl as we, each of us had slaughtered their beloved. Each of us had slaughtered someone and watched their mangled remains fly away in hovercrafts, they were nothing.

I'd stolen hope. I'd taken the District Twelve girl's life, and with her life lost in my hands I took the hope that she once held as she gazed out amongst the scary waves. I'd garnered someone else's hope to live and brought it with me, and perhaps that was the buzzing sensation that filled my stomach with a feeling of grief, and sickness, and love. My harpoon was held firmer in my hands, waiting on being used again. I wanted to use it again. "Elon!" More shrieking, more yelling, more crying. It was hard to stay focused with the pounding in my stomach. The victor's brother, the boy destined to win magnificently, or die horribly, caught amongst the slippery grasp of the plants that held him tightly the night before.

Destiny lashed out - her string so far cut she'd never return to the girl who'd watched my back whilst I slept, or the girl who lost a finger saving our lives, or the girl who helped hold down the golden cornucopia alongside us. Snap - it was so simple to crack, so simple to lose oneself amongst the mess, and she was gone. Lash, the little girl hits Mr. Emberstatt. The boy who I'd grown to like from his little get-together, the boy I thought was just like me, the boy in a large group leading them through tough times. He too had lost a brother, as I'd lost a lover. He too has felt constricted; I too have felt held back. But here he was lashing out on himself, and that's where we stood different.

I've been held back before. I'd failed what I'd come to do - protect the Queen. But there was nothing holding me back now, and I wouldn't lash out against myself - I could win.

I could win.

Klaus, the boy with the good heart, attempts to free him but does nothing in the process. He does nothing but attempt to cut the ropes that hold him back, Elon that is, attempts to help him free and let him go. He doesn't understand. With Destiny's psychotic rage, and Klaus' fiery heart, without a Queen with the beautiful siren's song to hold them back and advise them on what to do, they were nothing but lost. I was lost too, one could say. Lost at sea, but now I was floating away from her siren's call and the skies were clearer somehow, though still shrouded in an unimaginable sadness that I imagine would never be fixed.

I hear the unsheathing of my cutlass before I'm entirely aware on what's going on. Consciously, I didn't feel my hand grab for the handle, nor did I feel the blade rub up against my irritable skin. It was the distinct sound of the sword blade as it rose from its hold that snapped me to attention. Jae Moreno, the boy standing in the shadows, the boy with the anchor weighing him down to the depths of the ocean, staring at me. His dark eyes cold and fragile - I think he understood. With only a glance, with only a quick second and the flash in his eyes - I think he understood that this time, it wouldn't be so easy to choose, it wouldn't be so easy to pick off the weak player. Even the small little girl whose tiny eyes wept for her brother was stronger than anyone. Mr. Moreno, the boy who was destined to live in the shadow of his older brother looked me in the eye, and I looked back at him.

"Help me."

The words escaped my chapped lips quickly and without any particular emotion. I wasn't sad, or happy. I wasn't angry, or calm. I was just ready to do what needed to be done.

There were eight little bulbs of hope left in this arena; I was now prepared to extinguish seven.

[attacks elon - cutlass]
[dice=200+1000]
[X - Stabbed Through Heart]

[Graphic Credit to the Wonderful Amazing South]

Someone's deciding whether or not to steal.
He opens a window just to feel the chill.
He hears that outside a small boy just started to cry
'Cause it's his turn, but his brother won't let him try.

Somewhere, there is a call.

It is a quiet call, in comparison to all the others I have heard - (I volunteer! Can you even do anything at all? My name's Destiny, by the way. May I have this dance? We don't deserve this anymore. Congratulations on your longevity! They're coming.) - but the words positively scream in my ears as I whip around to face Klaus. It takes only a moment to decipher his expression. There is hurt and there is confusion and there is desperation radiating from his soul, pooling in his eyes, slipping from his fingertips and cocooning him in the forbidden emotion known as love. And in recognition, part of me snaps back. A single piece of my long parted sanity returns to its proper place and everything starts turning right again, like clockwork in my mind. There are still some shards missing, never again to be retrieved, but they don't matter anymore. Because what I see in Klaus' eyes is something matched in my own heart – a similarity we share despite our differences. We have played the game, and we have lost. Now only our souls can pay off the debt we have gained. Klaus Goravich is guilty of love, as am I. It is an unforgivable crime with the very worst of punishments, and yet we committed it. There is only one difference in our love – I have lost mine, while he still has something (someone) to cling to in the darkness of night. That difference lasts only a split second, though.

Behind me, the Emberstatt boy falls.

I don't even need to turn around to know – I can hear the final breaths and the sudden cease in attacks that lets me know that one among us is dying, and somehow I can feel that it is Elon. Maybe it's the way the room darkens with the absence of everything warm and good that was him, or maybe it's just the sudden look on Klaus' face that reflects all the screams that released within and without me when Pandora's face flickered up in the sky. Up until now, I always thought that it would have been better if I had been there for his death, so I could have been there in his final moments and felt the closure of him leaving me forever. But seeing the expression on Klaus' face, I know that being there would not have been better. It doesn't matter if you're with them or without them, if it's slow or fast, if they are old or young. Either way, they're still dead, and we're still lost without them.

“Klaus?” I say quietly, my voice strained. My mind jerks back to only moments ago and I give a tiny yelp as I remember my thoughts. I will kill him I will kill him I will kill them all.