keep fighting on // [The Running Men Day 1]

Looking out from underneath,
Fractured moonlight on the sea
Reflections still look the same to me,
As before I went under.
And it's peaceful in the deep,

That had been exhilarating.

Opal Shore strode through the arena, eyes alert, bright and very much alive. Oddly enough she found herself smiling, unable to shake off her joy and the high that she had gained from the bloodbath. Never before had she experienced such a thrilling, encompassing need to spill more and more blood. It had been most enjoyable to lash out at the tributes, to see one fall before Locusts feet and to know she had helped take him down. She was, however, trying her best to ignore the fact that they had ganged up on Samuel Tulius, Opal had liked the large boy, he had been kind, he wasn’t mean or rude, or anything. He hadn’t deserved what he had received, but then none of them truly deserved the fate that awaited them. That hadn’t stopped Opal from attacking him. Shrugging she continued on walking, the bag she had slung over her back was full of supplies, some of them were useless. She still couldn’t wrap her head around why she had grabbed a pocket watch, what would she need that for? Grunting she tugged it from her pocket, after a quick inspection she realised it was, in fact, broken. With a scowl she shoved it back and continued onwards.

Drawing her gaze upwards, she found, to her delight the somewhat surprising sight of moss. With a small squeal she scampered forwards, her hands dropping the sword in her grasp. It clattered onto the ground beside her as she dived forwards, hands eagerly stretching outwards. It had been too long, far too long since she had last seen plants of any kind. The depressing sight of fake, plastic pieces of rubbish had awaited her in the Capitol. At first she had been astounded that anyone could replicate a plant like that, it had been such a poor replica. And then after a few days the surprise and horror had been worn off and she had been left with a growing need to just touch anything. The plants station in the training centre had done little to satisfy her hunger, there had been a large range of plants, yes, but Opal needed more than a range, she needed more than a few leaves here and there. What she needed was a garden where she could feel the soil between her toes, the air swipe through her hair and the open sky above her. There had been none of that. Opal had even gone to the extreme of asking if there was any, or at least a garden she could bury herself in. Of course, there had been none, and her requests had been met with sneers and often stony glares, and silence.

For a moment she just sat there, pressing her face into the moss. Smiling to herself she breathed in, the fresh, clear smells of the world, of the earth and of freedom filling her. She could do this, as long as she had her bit of nature, her babies, she could do this. They weren’t hers, they weren’t hers at all, but they were living, breathing beings and they held that special, beautiful essence of life that filled every person. Each of them was individual and different and from a glance she could tell see it as clear as day. Opening her eyes she stared for a moment at the dirt just inches away from her nose. Then with a happy sigh she looked up, quickly scanning the area she saw no one. Fighting back and unexpected yearning for her allies she glanced downwards one more time, her finger dug into the dirt, clinging to the moss that grazed her hands. It felt moist and like home. It felt just like home. Biting on her lip, Opal scrambled to her feet, grabbing her fallen sword she continued her journey.

The Dao was an unfamiliar sword, one she had never actually used before. She had only ever seen it once before, just a glimpse, and after a few minutes of staring dumbfounded at it she had managed to pick a name from the puzzle of her mind. Emerald would have been able to name it at a first glance, and well, anyone in her family could have. They knew the name and shape of every blade that there was, Opal was not as enthralled by the topic of weapons. “It needs a name.” She mumbled, frowning at the shiny blade. All good weapons have a name. Besides, even if the name did not help she felt like it would be better with a name, it would feel more like hers. Opal had named every single one of her plants, and she could never forget them. She loved them, and by naming them it gave them that more real touch. People grow more attached to things that they can name. After thinking for a moment a grin crossed her lips. Clearing her throat she pointed the sword outwards, eyeing it, as if testing the name before she spoke it. Then, in a loud voice she said, ”I name thee sword, Pyrite.” That’s right you bitch. Laughing to herself she continued onwards, Pyrite hanging from her hip.

She had not gotten more than a few meters when she heard the familiar, but eerie sound of the canon. At first the sound made her jump, her hand tightening on hilt of Pyrite. After a hesitant moment her steps quickened, until Opal was almost jogging, her mind was spinning, the loud sound of the canon ringing in her head. Who could that of been? After a moment she was faced with the odd sight of Drace Vandel in Xanthus Grimm’s arms, with the dead body of… well she forgot who that was. Fumbling for a few words she strode closer, her hand loosening if only slightly on Pyrite. Xanthus was hardly an ally, they were district partner’s, but the two of them had made no agreements, and besides this was the games, however, she kept the sword sheathed, unwilling to attack the gentleman, he having earned her respect. “Well then, ladies, if you two are done smooching, I’d move away from the body.” Consciously aware that Locust was nowhere in sight Opal stepped closer, her eyes falling on the bleeding Drace. Forcing herself to not roll her eyes she said instead, ”Well, don’t you look a bit holey. At least you aren’t dead.” She finished with a cheerful grin. Then she turned her attention to Xanthus, he looked like he had taken a bit of a beating in the Bloodbath as well. Her eyes flickered over the bloody pair, widening with concern. Two good people bleeding, maybe even dying. Blinking rapidly she forced herself to smile, an easy grin slipping onto her tired lips, offering her hand to Xanthus she spoke. “Good to see you alive. Now all we need is to find Locust, then we can try and fix you two up a bit.”

[ Opal receives an empty jar and empty water jug from sponsors. I'll RP this out next posttt ]

Cathedral, where you cannot breathe,
No need to pray, no need to speak
Now I am under, Oh.
And it's breaking over me,
A thousand miles onto the sea bed,