{Calling, calling, calling ...* [Navy vs Scythers]

The little thing recoils as my fist hits it straight in the head, stumbling about for a moment and then finally lunging at me, teeth first, which I easily side step. It falls flat on it's face and I pick my weapon off the ground once. "Sorry, little one, but the darkness has to go." And I swing as hard as I can manage without completely losing myself in tears. This has to happen - I can't let it live.

And blood splays when the tails come down across the small, frail thing and then tears really start to flow down my face. I swipe angrily at my eyes, but I know the tears are just gunna keep rolling down my cheeks. Why am I such a wimp? I watched 3 people die and none of their killers seemed to care. In fact, they looked like they were enjoying themselves ... Help me, help me please - I don't think I can do this again. Especially when my target is someone who can talk to me. Someone who can look into my eyes and beg to live. How can I kill someone in so much pain? With so much hope that I will have mercy? No, I couldn't.

Oh but you could, darling Naveen. Don't you remember me? The Beast.

My legs give out from beneath me and I find I can't move them. I don't know if I will ever be able to move them again. I will remain frozen to this spot and the mud will begin to eat away at my skin and I will turn into nothing but dirt. And then from my dirt will grow something much more beautiful than me. A lotus will spring open and I will become a pure and innocent blossom. Something that has never harmed and will only bring joy, and health, and beauty to the world. Maybe it is best to remain here on the ground. Maybe it is best if I just simply quit. I have murdered. I have seen murder. I am ready to be done.

But what about home? The mud isn't as cool as I hoped it would be, the stickiness only making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I suppose if this is what it takes to become a flower, something without guilt and pain that has begun to consume itself alive, then it may just be worth it. But what about home, darling child? My fingers dig deep into the mud, like roots searching for a place to take. My toes search as well, stretching as far and as deep as they possibly can for something that will get them stuck. Something that will make them stay there forever. I am a seed that needs to take root. My face turns to the sky, my hair stretched across the ground, like petals searching for the sunlight, trying to soak up as much as possible. Or in today's case, rain water. Why am I not blossoming? Because, sweet child of mine, you are dreaming of home. No, it's because you don't want to become innocent. You like to kill, don't you Navy?

Yes. No.

I turn my cheek to the mud. The little creatures, laying dead before me, look like nothing but beat up rats. Torn to bits at my hand. They could look peaceful like that. Like the were sleeping under a red blanket. Maybe they are. Maybe if I just picked them up, they would start trying to tear me apart again. Maybe if I just tried to save them, to keep their dear little hearts beating to the end of eternity, I could be forgiven. I could feel less guilt on my chest. Because if maybe Theo and Mason and Guy were watching then they would understand that I was a good person. That I didn't want them to die. That I didn't want to leave them there. That even when I am trying to save something, it dies anyways. Like a fire set in the rain with nothing to cover it. No matter how many times you try to rekindle it, or use a lighter to refuel the flame, or gas you pour on the wood to make it burn, eventually, the rain will become to great of a challenge for the flame to bear and it will whiter away in a band of smoke. Like a boat with a hole in the bow. No matter how fast and hard you try to pump the water out, or patch the hole with wood or a life raft, eventually, the boat will fill with water and sink to the bottom of the ocean, taking the captain with it. Like a little girl who refuses to let herself remember. No matter how many times she has cried herself to sleep, no matter how many times she has pushed the memories out of her mind and replaced it with another, no matter how many times she has wished she could be treated just like her brothers and no different, that girl will never be able to change the past. The memories. The little girl will forever be stuck remembering her childhood hell. Because scars only fade, never disappear.

"I'm sorry." I reach out, my fingers - my roots - leaving the ground to press against the small creature. It's body is still warm, it's blood still oozing to the ground, weaving it's life into my fingers as it goes. I pull my hand away, looking at the red that has reached under my fingernails and into the crevices and folds in my hand. The metallic liquid thins in the spots where the rain hits my palm. My hand almost looks like it's crying. Weeping for the dear thing that the blood belonged to. I leave the blood to stain my hand red forever and decide the earth will never take me to be a plant. I have sinned too much already for it to accept me. I'm too dirty already.

Who have I become? What have I done?

I pull myself from the ground, mud sticking between my toes and fingers and in my hair, and I walk to the small ponds that contain the lotus plants. I hold my body beneath the surface, washing away any mud that is still sticking to me. What happened to the girl who always saw the bright side of things? I pull myself from the water, my head spinning, the flowers and mud and water in front o f me blurring across my vision, making me see nothing but blurs of white and pink and purple petals. What happened to the girl that changed for no one? I feel myself touching my hip, my hand coming away smeared with blood. Water drips from my eyelashes, the tips of my hair. My dress clings tight to my body, revealing the spot where it has torn at the teeth of those poor animals. I press my hand again against my hip, letting the blood completely swallow my hand. Then I bring my hand away again, staring at my reflection in the puddles around me. And then I begin to paint.

She was torn to shreds; ripped to pieces; killed by the sight of death and beginning of hell.

I draw a line down the middle of my face, down my neck, down my chest until I reach the edge of my dress. Separate, cut, tear. Then I start to smear the blood across the left side of my face. Over my cheek, my eyelid, my brow, my ear, my neck - covering myself with a thick, sticky film of red. Cover, hide, keep secret. And when I have finished, my reflection showing a girl half blood red and half pale white, I bend over, find a sharp edge on my weapon, and dig deep into my tongue as I have so many times before. Only this time, I make sure to dig deep enough that I will keep my mouth shut. Because that's what daddy asked for - and that's what daughter must give. Hushed, silenced, dead.

And then I pick up my kings crowns, my kings treasures, my two dead pets, my beautiful lotus plants, and finally, my three kings. And I know they may not recognize me, so I smile to let them know. To promise them it's me. But which side of me do they want?

The sinful red? Or the innocent white?

Which side will I choose?

[Naveen uses First Aid on herself to bring her down to 11.0 total damage. Eats her 1 edible plant bundle. Collects 3 bundles medicinal herbs and uses one on herself to bring damage down to 10.0. Collects another bundle of medicinal herbs and has 3 bundles total. She also harvests the scythers' hearts meat.]