Where Are You Now? [Stars vs. Sphinx]

Demeter was disappointed to hear the absence of cannons during the remainder of day two. While she struggled to keep her own life in one piece, the tributes still standing were supposed to be tearing one another apart and clearing the arena of nuisances and potential threats. What on earth were they doing? Hiding like cowards, as if stalling the games would somehow bring about the miracle of a blessing upon their doomed souls?

Not a chance. Each and every one of their dreams would crumble, their wishes burn, their lives reach the edge of the abyss when they bathed in the blood drawn by enemies - in the scarlet summoned by a dragon’s claws. The dragon is hunting tonight, and nobody is safe. They could scramble like ants avoiding a boot, but there was no hiding from the predators that would track their scents and corner them to devour their hearts. There could only be one victor, one true queen of the arena, and only one who could claim the prize that so suited her surname; and that heir of the throne was Demeter Merwin-Glory.

The crunching of leaves and flowers signaled a change in scenery, and with high doubts that the careers were following their trail Demeter decided to set up camp and light a small fire to boil the filthy water in their containers and save it for a more appropriate time. Storing the jug in her backpack, she rested her head against a makeshift pillow of plants she gathered and stared at blackness in anticipation of the anthem. Only two cannons had echoed that day - one belonging to Learna Libertine, former alliance member and apparently friend of Heather’s judging by her tear-streaked flushed face, and the other remaining a temporary mystery until the song of Panem began to blast. After the decided fate of Learna and Heather’s unpleasant reaction - wounding Ailis, who had been following her physical commands properly - the temptation to screech and chastise her had boiled within her chest. Foolish, idiotic, useless child. Unfortunately, without a voice there was no proper and simple way to communicate without straining herself or confusing the distressed girl, so instead of bothering with the irksome task she merely seethed silently until the steam drifted out of her ears and relieved her of her emotional burdens. For now, she would keep Heather alive and forgive her for her mistake, and Ailis would remain her loyal sidekick until the day she fell to enemy hands. Or, perhaps, in the midst of a streak of bad luck, Demeter would be forced to dispose of them herself - a troublesome task, she imagined, but nothing she wouldn’t attempt if it meant selfishly keeping her life intact.

After the faces of Learna and Ellea of district five appeared in the sky (or in her case, the ceiling of the underworld) Demeter settled with her sword upon her chest - broken, but never shattered - and slept until early morning, though when the sun peered over the horizon there was nobody trapped within the underworld who could witness it. The very first instance she woke up she decided it was time to start moving again, and with a small cough she parted her dry lips and tested her vocals. ”Wake up.” A sore voice emerged with a croak, prompting her to clear her throat and grin at the retrieval of her voice. Finally, she could communicate properly with her allies once again - a key to success if they wanted to remain a functioning team until it would be time to part. Climbing to her feet and stretching her aching muscles, she gathered her things and slung her backpack over her shoulder. ”Get up, you two,” she said more clearly, nudging the two gently with her foot. ”We have to move.”

Like the garden of eerie statues, the meadow adorned with vibrant flowers was too quiet and too peaceful to reassure Demeter that no danger could be lurking. She remained wary of her surroundings and the beautiful scenery that flaunted its color and taunted her with dancing shadows that could’ve been tributes or mutts, but in the process she was careful to glance back at her allies and make sure they were up to speed and not under any immediate distress that could cause Heather either of them to make any sudden, amateur, or regretful movements. She noticed that Heather’s face was no longer damp with fresh tears, but instead grim and sullen as if death himself were resting on her shoulders and whispering the secrets of her future demise. ”Try not to mourn for too long,” Demeter said, breaking the long streak of silence they had shared for hours. ”She was meant to die.” and so are twenty three others, she wanted to add, but why discourage the two and remind them of their inevitable fates? She needed them in high spirits and with more energy and enthusiasm, otherwise they would both be at risk for getting their throats slit earlier than Demeter had initially planned. She halted for a moment and stared at the two of the. ”We can’t afford anymore distractions, especially with the careers on the loose, so if anything is bothering you two at the moment, banish it. It can’t be more important than surviving.”

Despite Heather’s apparent inability to conceal her emotions, Demeter expected her to follow orders and toss away whatever rusted bond she shared with the Libertine. This was an arena meant for death, betrayal, and heartbreak - there was no room for mourning or crying or making friends. Why mourn for those destined to perish? Why cry worthless tears for children who were going to die regardless of who they met and who they bonded with? Why bother forming friendships when that friend would eventually find a sword plunged through his chest? There was no logical reason to do any of these things. Twenty-three tributes die, one survives, and yet there were still naïve idiots every year that ignored this crucial fact and tortured themselves with the hope of maintaining a friendship doomed to rip from the start. They never learn, do they? Fools, all of them. Demeter could only shake her head at their pathetic attempts to shield reality with something that would never last. Heather had already made this mistake by bonding with the Libertine - typical of an underdog. Who was next?

The sound of an unmistakable growl coming from what could not be a prowling human being disturbed the serenity of the meadows. Weapon clenched tightly, Demeter stopped and listened and signaled her allies to pause also. For a moment, silent tension hovered above their heads as Demeter attempted to locate the source of the growl using eyes alone, her palms sweating and her right hand aching from the impulsive tight grip. Then, a large figure swooped into view with wings extended far and claws sharpened and ready for butchering. It was one of the most majestic mutts she’d ever seen, and perhaps one of the most frightening with it’s lion-like characteristics combined with wings to allowing it to capture prey from above. Fear was not in Demeter’s vocabulary, however, and despite her shock at the arrival of the strange beast she did not hesitate to move in and try to dice it to pieces before it devoured her and her allies alive. ”Attack!”



[attacks Sphinx - Xiphos]
[dice=200+1000]
[Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0]


hullo RE roll
[dice=6]
lol nothing

I am darkness.

He knows little of his past, or of his future. He is different from his brethren, taken to the skies with a massive bulk to eclipse the sun. He sees the Dog, battered and broken, slumped upon the corroded ground with the Little Ones that swarm around it with shiny arms and bloody baying. He sees the Scaled Ones with their tiny needles that rend flesh from bone and the Watery Ones far out upon the shifting sea. All are chained to the dirt where the monsters swarm and defend their home, stuck within the trees, struck blind once darkness falls. But him? Oh, no. He commands the skies with his majestic wings and fearsome glare, swooping in to rip with deadly claws and deliver the fatal blow.

One by one he has seen the others fall. Their mistakes were subtle, obscure. As the days rolled through and the winds grew thick with the scent of their death, he kept to the endless abyss of above, only swooping down to the living darkness below the angry waters when the ring of metal upon bone became too much. He tires, keeping his bulk aloft, always wishing to stop somewhere and rest his weary wings but pushed away by the sound of the Little Ones crashing through the bush. He is the pride of his creation; tall and strong with a voice like booming thunder, but he has no wish to sully his claws today. (Those wandering up above have no mind to their heads, thinking only of the battle and never of words. His riddles would go unheard.)

I am endless.

The tips of his wings grow wet with mud as he swoops low through the Styx, narrowing his eyes as the light grows dimmer and they begin to gleam in the harsh darkness. Here, where the echoes of the dead water sounds from all around him, his claws drag against the surface until he emerges into the Underground where the sky holds a shell above itself. He pauses at the banks, settling down in a flurry of feathers, dipping down to taste the tainted waters. This is no place for a Lord to stay - he hears the whispering of the Little Ones around him, the clink of their massive claws heavy against their sides. He growls and his feet make staggering impressions as he throws himself back into the air, searching for somewhere to rest.

His pelt is golden against the darkness as he tilts east, spiraling further and further into the depths until the slow roar of the Styx fades even to his sensitive ears. The stench of rot and blood is replaced by another smell, sweeter; he remembers it from his time spent in that infernal cage, surrounded by Little Ones in their white pelts who prodded and stabbed at him, gave him life to simply discard it here in this strange world. Sweet, with a hint of a tang, it lures him closer until his paws brush against the swaying flowers and his eyes open in awe as they sway in unison, glittering with fractured light. Soft under his feet, the sphinx pads forth to the edge of the meadow and curls up quietly, hiding his nose under the crook of his arm and losing himself to silence.

I am fearless.

Sound startles him back to consciousness. In the distance he sees three Little Ones with their claws of metal and fury, shrouded in the eerie gloom that the meadow gives. Females. Slender, carrying the bane of blood upon their weapons. They dare intrude upon these grounds? They shatter the silence with their sounds. When he rises he slinks through the grasses on his belly, pushing ever forward, wings flaring bright against the backdrop of dark. This is his meadow, his creatures. They bring their disquiet and discord here, and they will surely pay.

When he leaps into the air it is an explosion of sound, claws extended and teeth bared into a feral snarl. His wings span against the unnatural darkness as his body hurtles towards them with the wind whipping his mane back from his glowing eyes. A Little One yells to her comrades; the Sphinx rolls out of the way from the first claw where it simply grazes his skin, but misjudges the reach of their strange weapons - he screeches in pain as one sinks into the meat of his thigh, and another into his forearm almost immediately after. Blood, black under the shadow, spurts from his flesh and stains the sacred ground slippery with his pain. "What insolence I see in front of me!" His voice rolls through the cavern in a thunderous roar, touching down briefly only to wince at his wounds. "You disturb the peace with your speech, not seeing this is my home you have breeched?"

The Sphinx throws himself towards them, claws outstretched. He centers in on the one that first caused him pain - the wound still gushes blood that tangles his pelt and mats it down thick with red. "My weapons are sharp but my words hold the sting, able to make the fabled cannon ring!"

[attacks Demeter, claws]
[dice=200+2000]
[stabbed in hand - 8.0]

He feels his claws pass through flesh and bone, embedding themselves through the hand of the one that hurt him. Fitting, to destroy the limb that injures. When he spins around to face them his leg cries out in protest and he falters, wings drooping momentarily as he shakes the dizziness from his head. Darkness comes to him, different from that which surrounds them. He will, in fact, be like his brethren - it is not long now.

"Listen well to what I say, for if not you will lose your way. The ancient ones of old once spoke in ways untold, and that is the legacy I will fight to uphold."

He heard the Little Ones speak of his ancient brothers and sisters, how their words confounded the villagers and injured them if they spoke the wrong answers. The Sphinx only hopes he has inherited the same ability. (They won't get away so quickly.)

"Tell me now, little flowers,
What hides from all but never cowers?
It has no voice but its call is heard,
For all it speaks is a silent word."

I am the hurricane unleashed.

[note: if nobody gets the answer by the end of day 3, you will all suffer 5 points of damage, regardless of if the sphinx is dead or not]

The girls pounced like animals, tearing into the flesh of an innocent mutt and painting the arena with its blood as a voice making the earth tremble startled Demeter into pausing, her eyes wide and her ears perhaps fooled by the idea that a mutt was actually speaking to them. ”What insolence I see in front of me!” Fear tried to crawl its way into her black heart like tiny insects, but failed to penetrate the icy walls that shrouded the scarlet chambers; she was startled, yes, but never afraid. ”You disturb the peace with your speech, not seeing this is my home you have breeched? The mutt’s home, eh?

Not for long. As soon as it reared it’s ugly head again, Demeter would be prepared for a second ambush to finish the thing once and for all before it could claim them as meals and crush the only hopes and dreams keeping the young dragon from losing her wings and plummeting to hell and beyond. She was already toying with death by venturing into the underworld; to lose her grip and find the underworld as her sky would be her newest nightmare sculpted into a horrific reality - a reality as terrifying as the nightmare she lived in her previous life when she was ruined.

Pain seared her flesh and tore into her bones, calling forth an angry cry of agony through the gritted teeth of Demeter Glory. My weapons are sharp but my words hold the sting, able to make the fabled cannon ring!” The beast’s claws summoned a dark stream of scarlet and fueled a fire once extinguished in the girl’s pounding heart. The dragon’s wrath was returning, and the desire to destroy the disgusting mutt was growing stronger and stronger as the wildfire scorched her veins and melted the barriers encasing her heart. Saving only a few moments to acknowledge the terrible pain, Demeter uttered an animalistic growl as if she were the beast’s equal and raised her stained weapon in preparation for a second attack, this time with the intention to rid herself of the oversized mutant before it’s thunderous voice could shake her out of her thoughts again. Unfortunately, while she could slash at the beast all she wanted there was no preventing the pair of arms like cushioned chains from wrapping around her neck and drawing her into a pair of lips that ravished her own, thus allowing the damned beast’s own lips to part once again and eventually casting the seductress into a world unexplored and delightfully fascinating.

Ailis did not carry the scent of alcohol, aftershave, cigarettes - nothing that resembled those of the men who ambushed her lips like hungry animals, their short patches of facial hair scratching the surface of her skin as she forcibly squeezed her eyes shut and let them explore her freely in hopes of reward money. It was disgusting, every moment of it, and she despised each and every body that touched her own and molded her into the unforgivable shard of frost that now melted beneath the flames of her own rage. But this sensation, this unexpected kiss, it was foreign. Ailis’ lips were feather soft, her scent tainted by the dirt of the arena yet still sweet when inhaled at such a closed distance. Even as the beast’s voice echoed, there was no neglecting the curiosity that clouded her mind and drew her closer and closer to temptation. Lost in her own scrambled thoughts, she instinctively closed her eyes and allowed her lips to move with her ally‘s, momentarily warping her into an alternate reality as the mutt’s voice shook the arena like an earthquake.

“Tell me now, little flowers,
What hides from all but never cowers?
It has no voice but its call is heard,
For all it speaks is a silent word.”

A riddle. Demeter reluctantly removed herself from the kiss and turned in time to Heather’s feeble attack against the wounded beast. Her spear nicked the side of its limb and from between her lips stumbled the utterance of a single word. ”Death.” It took only a moment’s contemplation for her to realize Heather was trying to solve the beast’s puzzle. It was a clever response, she would admit, but she didn’t possess the time or patience required to figure out such a worthless riddle and instead barreled toward the beast with only the worst of intentions crawling through her head. ”I don’t have time for your riddles you overgrown pussycat.” Her words were laced with venom, a telltale sign that her patience was diminished to its last drop. ”I have my own game to play.”

[attacks Sphinx - Xiphos]
[dice=200+1000]
[Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5]

The beast was swift; it managed to evade what could’ve been its death sentence and wandered closer to Ailis, who was granted perfect access to its battered body. ”Kill it, Ailis!” Her screech could be heard above all else. Her feelings for the mysterious district twelve tribute were not yet secure, especially after absorbing last moment’s events, but amidst the chaos of battle there was only one way to look at her, and that was as a fellow solider. In the meantime, however, there was a riddle still lingering in the air. Heather’s guess was quite ingenious, but was it correct? And were the gamemakers planning something if they could not solve the riddle before the mutt perished? If that was the case, she had considered it a second too late. During the rapid firing of random thoughts spilled one answer that could perhaps match the beast’s description; hidden, voiceless, and speaking only one silent word.

”Wind?”

idk filler again i promise i'll fill this out tonight if i finish homework first ok DON'T RUSH ME YOU GUYZZZ