dig up the bones // day six // opal vs drace

Her mind still spun, memories, emotions and hindering thoughts barely more than an echo of the reeling thoughts that raged on in her head. Past those shining bright eyes was plain, confusion and a smouldering anger -an ember just waiting to be light into a burning flame. It was the type of fire that could destroy and unleash havoc on everything and everyone around her. Yet, it was also a flame that begged to remain the burning, glowing remains of what it had once been. Both Locust and herself had fled the feast, both of them had left at separate times, Opal having been to shocked at the sudden betrayal from her former ally. After walking, more like wondering aimless she halted, her pale hands tightening around the hilt of Pyrite, her trusty Dao. There they clung, knuckles whitening by the second, her jaw tensed, an uncontrollable amount of anger entering her movements. Glowering she scowled, rage rippling through her body as she stared into the eyes of Drace Vandel. No amount of words would ever satisfy the hate that now coursed through her veins. Opal Shore had never hated anyone in her life before. She had never once loathed another human being before, she had disliked and she had disagreed, but never had the word hate leapt to the fore front of her mind as quickly as it did when she gazed at Drace. Not even Pyrite could gather this much hate from her. She stepped forward.

She was ready to make the boy that had betrayed her hurt. She was eager and looking forward to the prospect of ripping the flesh from his face, making him scream and cry and beg for mercy. The idea of pulling him and cutting him into tiny bits was oddly appealing to the normally sweet girls mind. Even the simple thought of Drace lying dead before her sent spikes of pleasure through her, causing the slyest of smiles to grace her lips. Raising her sword she prepared for it to meet his flesh and shear off his remaining limbs. However, as the sword rose upwards Opal glanced at the blade, for a split second she saw her reflection, and in that moment her eyes saw only a girl filled with hatred and rage, someone so obsessed with revenge that she looked almost wild. It was like she was no longer a human, but an animal. The girl that stared back at her scared Opal and it reminded her too much of her stubborn, bitchy, psychotic sister at home. She stopped, sword clattering from her numb hands. Opal could not do this, she could not be some wild, untameable animal, whose only source of joy was to make others’ lives misery. The kind, compassionate, caring girl that she truly was, was her. This thing that had engulfed her was a spitting image of her pathetic sister, Pyrite.

Opal wasn't her, Opal was nowhere near the same or even similar to Pyrite, she wasn't a monster; she couldn't harm someone because they had hurt her. The girl had grown up in a family if maniacs, lunatics and vicious cruel killers who gained pleasure from others pain. All her life she had tried to distance herself from that image, she had tried to make a girl that was free, someone not boing by physical attacks of aggression, but if kindness and trust. Why would she end that now? What could she possibly gain by killing Drace just because he wronged her? She was not a monster like her siblings. Opal could forgive. Closing her eyes tightly she stepped back, breathing deeply she forced the anger and rage from her body. She let it all slip through her fingers and into the barren wasteland around her. The ember within her flickered, a last defiant attempt to gather her anger. But she persisted and within moments the ember was destroyed, her flame died and she opened her eyes. Within them was no anger, there was no rage or hatred or annoyance. There was only sadness and the smallest flicker of disappointment. She looked into his eyes, her gaze strong and demanding to be held. "I forgive you." She said simply. Without another word or glance she spun around and with sword in hand she walked away. She did not look back.

---

Opal Shore was stressing. She glanced left and right, eyes widening with every movement until they were round with disbelief. Even though she had been searching for over three hours there had been no sign of Locust. It was getting to the point where her stomach would knot with anxiety, and she’d find herself resisting the urge to call out the other girls name. That was just a silly move, but still it was a hard one to fight off, one that begged to be heard. She couldn’t lose her ally, not yet. She still needed Locust and after the burn that the girl had sustained Opal knew that locust still needed her. That was what made it the hardest, moving off and into the wilderness without her most trusted ally, move off and into this arena alone without her best friend and the girl she cared for so much. Who knew what she had to face out their alone. Who knew who she might run into, or if she might end up against odds that left her dead. Part of her worried that in tonights sky she would see Locust’s face. All her hope was wrapped around the idea that it would not happen and that Locust would be alive and that tomorrow they would catch up with one another, no need to worry about anything. They wouldn’t have to fight, they would hug – maybe – and she would hear Locust say something extremely formal and she would smile. And then the two of them would continue on, as a team, as friends and as allies until there was no one left standing.

That was never going to happen.

And maybe it was just that. Maybe this was a good thing. But she couldn’t bring herself to believe that. If she was going to die she wanted it to be beside Locust. She wanted it to be with Locust holding her hands, and holding her life. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to think that the two might have to face one another. After all there could only be a single victor. No matter what she thought, or what notions plagued her mind she knew that if she was going to die in this stupid place it would have to be with Locust. Any other way was not good enough. Any of other way was out of question. Determinedly she continued forwards, her movements less urgent and calmer. She just had to keep looking; Locust couldn’t have travelled too far. The world around her began to change, morphing into something else. From the tar pits a new world sprung upwards. The white, odd trees of what could only be described as made of spiders web, where daunting. There was something eerily haunting about them, they weren’t natural. No forest made of webs was natural and that left Opal somewhat hesitant to enter the place. Taking a deep breath she sucked up all the courage she had before stepping into the trees arms. Here, the cold touch of foreign eyes greeted her.

It wasn’t until she heard movement, that her heart started beating faster. In her eyes it was as loud as a drum roll and she forced herself to calm down. Spinning around she almost squealed, her eyes widening with disbelief. The familiar face of Drace Vandel coming into view. She hadn’t spoken to him, nor seen him since she had last forgiven him, and it was somewhat surprising to see him without Xanthus. Opal offered him a small warm smile, after all she had forgiven him for what he had done. Although the stitching up of her own wounds had been painful enough in itself, yet, as well as the fact she had a tight bandage around her head, to cover up the two wounds he had given her. Still, she had forgiven him and with that forgiveness her flare of anger had dissolved. The warm smile did, however, flicker and vanish as Drace stared at her, a cold, twisted, disgusting, pathetic look on that snivelling face of his. It was hardly a friendly or welcoming look; on the contrary it looked rather demonic. Instinctively Opal’s hands reached for her sword, Pyrite, and she wrapped a single hand around the hilt. She did not draw, though. “Err, Drace, I’m not sure if you realised, but your eyes are like flickering with like a killer glare. You might want to tone it down a little.” She mumbled, her eyes glued to his.

Opal did not fear Drace, she was not scared of him. She was not, although, as surprised as she should have been when Drace lunged at her, fiery blade flickering in her direction. She dodged, feet moving with the ease of experience. Well, except for the fact that her mind was still so glued on those psychotic eyes that she didn’t see the tree. That wasn’t good. Her body slammed into the tree, and Drace’s blade rewarded her with a shallow cut. Scowling she turned her burning brown eyes onto his disfigured body. ”I see how it is. I forgive you. I forgave you for betraying me, hurting me and stabbing your own ally in the back. And this is how you repay me?” She spat. The ember within her glowed, brighter and brighter, anger leaking into her body, until it coursed through each of her viens. ”I was wrong. My sister’s had the right idea. Pyrite has the right idea. Hurting people is a lot more fun than forgiving. So I’m going to hurt you Drace. I’m going to make you scream.” Grabbing the jar of tar from her bag she drew her sword. And then using a match she lit it on fire. Calmly she stepped forward, flames flickering with a deadly greed. With a small, cold smile she lunged forwards, Pyrite a blaze of lust.

[attacks Drace -- sword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Block]

[dice=50]
[8 damage -- severe burn]

[ Opal uses jar of tar and lights sword on fire. ]

This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again
I've drowned and dreamt this moment

He laughed. It was deranged, and rather awful. It held that hint of psychotic rage, that so often beste itself on the weak. It was always that way, though. The weak ones fell, and when they didn’t they succumb to the lowest, most undesirable form of survival. They became an animal. They let their primal instincts take control and it made them angry, annoying and stupid. They acted before reacting they thought later and just lunged. They were messy, grumpy and altogether no match for a trained killer. They were to animal like; they had fallen far below the level of termites and insects. Their actions couldn’t even compare to those of anyone else. By letting yourself fall into the grasp of insanity you essentially gave up everything. And Drace Vandel was more monster then human. He was a sick, pathetic little creature that needed to be put out of its misery. He’d lost the edge; he’d lost everything that gave a person purpose to live. Opal had not. She had every purpose to live. She had people, hell she had parents that she had yet to meet. She had never ever meet her real family and if she got out of this she was determined to get home and meet them. Drace Vandel was a low life, thief, robber and a coward. There was no life awaiting someone as fragile, breakable and as weak as him. It was only courtesy on Opal’s behalf to end is existence; she was doing him a favour.

Besides he had a big mouth. A big fat ugly mouth that she wanted to punch. He talked big, he said weird ass things and most of all everything that came from his mouth held no importance. It was as if they were simply words that slipped from his lips because he liked the sound of his own voice. Each riveting sentence that escaped his lips did not affect Opal in the least. Kind of. Well to anyone looking at her she looked as calm and collected as possible. A mask of polite calmness, as though she was imply listening to a child vent his rage out on the person closest to him because he could not have candy. On the inside, however, she was a swirling, dancing mass of rage. That ember that had once been destroyed was now being fed continuously by an anger that was fueled by every word that slipped from his lips. Her stomach churned, her heart pounded rapidly. She would not let such comments draw her into a fit of fury, she had to keep a level head and she would do just that. And then after this was done she could take her anger out on a tree or something. She just had a little bit of a mess to fix up first. She was a career, she knew ow to handle taunts, besides she had survived almost her entire life ignoring them and letting them slip over her. One boy wouldn't make those years of building of walls crack, not this time, not how he had done it before. Not how he had caught her once in a fit of rage. This time she would control it.

Stepping forwards she relished in the spikes of pain that greeted her as Drace’s puny little knife meet with her skin. The knife pierced her arm, slipping past her skin and into her body. It dug in deep, before he pulled it out and it was quickly followed by a spurt of blood. It raced down Opal's arm, mingling into the hilt of her sword. This time, as she briefly turned her gaze to her hands she was confronted with the sight of blood on her hands. And unlike when Akasha had fallen this sight did not speak of terror and a loss of innocence, but rather a stepping stone into understanding, a step closer to becoming like her sisters, to becoming a true killer. ”I will Drace. How about you stand right there and let me skewer you to a tree with my sword. Hell, I’ll even give you a little kiss with my glaive if you want it?” She replied, her tone sickly sweet. Each word dripped with venom as it fell from her lips. However, she kept the rest of her body calm, her movements casual and assertive. After a few seconds she smiled, her lips dancing with the cheekiest of looks, her eyes flickering with the same fire. ”Oh Locust? Is that a lot like how your boyfriend is nowhere near you? Did big Xanthus finally decided that puny, pathetic you was just as big of a burden as you look? Because I’d be surprised if he had not realised that yet. So I’ll assume that is why he is nowhere in sight.” She gave her sword a broad sweep, indicating the area around him. The area that was completely empty, they were both all alone.

”Or maybe he just finally decided to stop protecting you. Forcing you to walk and not hide behind him like some incompetent little baby.” Her eyes glinted with malice, flickering with a cold, deadly flame. But in all aspects her eyes were the only part of her that even whispered a drop of the emotions she felt, not even her lips expressed a tainted smile, instead the remained tight and flat, emotionless. Her hair flickered as she moved, her steps light and precise, carrying with it an age of experience. All those years of dance and gymnastics had given her grace and elegance and those abilities would help her to destroy the boy before her. The rest of her was as calm as ever, her hands wrapped casually around the sword. They tightened, and she rose it up high, before sending the blade forward.

[attacks Drace -- sword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Stabbed in stomach 9.5 + 1 blades, total 10.5 damage]

[dice=50]
[extinguished]

This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again
I've drowned and dreamt this moment

Emerald.

The mere mention of her sister’s name sent shivers of coldness through her body. And yet it no longer held the same effect as it once had. A long time ago it would have made tears spring to her eyes, it would have caused her pain and frustration and now there was only contempt. The coldness, however, raced through her enveloping her as quickly as water would if she were being doused in it. She shrugged at his other comments, unwilling to let herself fall into a trap. She could hardly say anything to him calling her pathetic. It was truly an empty threat, nothing more than him letting his frustration out on her. Opal Shore knew she wasn’t pathetic. She knew it and he knew it. The whole world knew she was more capable of winning these games then he was. Hell, if she let herself think it she knew she was stronger, more competent and much more lethal than locust. Out of her entire alliance she was the one that had caused the most damage, yeah Locust had taken two lives, but without other’s helps the girl would have done nothing. Drace had taken the life of a girl that couldn’t even walk. The girl was so damaged and broken that it had taken a bunch to end her. That wasn’t skill or power, which was just him being a coward because he couldn’t possibly face anyone with actual strength or courage.

His comment on her being dead was hardly accurate. Opal was very much alive. Whether he was trying to be all metaphorical like those idiots that think too much into everything, she did not know. To Opal it was more like he was trying to convince himself of an idea he knew sounded as stupid as it did in his mind. There was no way in hell that she was dead. She was breathing, she could feel pain and she had a thousand different emotions coursing through her. Dead? He was obviously more mentally dysfunctional then she had first thought. Sighing she shook her head, her brown hair flowing around her shoulders in a curtain of silken strands. It was almost a disappointed shake of her head, but there was a mocking sadness and full blown contempt hidden within it. She did not need to feel anything else to know that Drace was simply playing with words now. From the way he reacted to what he had said about Xanthus there was something seriously wrong with him. She was more than positive that Drace was completely psychotic. The boy had lost it, but then that was what happened when you were weak. She had expected nothing less.

The flames had died from her sword, but she had still found the site of her blade slicing into his stomach pleasant. And yet, she had almost been thankful that the flames had died before she had stabbed him. Not even Drace Vandel deserved being stabbed in the stomach with a sword on fire, that was just pain, past misery and agony and no matter what Opal said or did, she hated making others suffer. It hurt her to see others in pain and as much as she hated them she could not and would never condone violence to solve problems. This situation was as much as a problem as it was useful. He was testing her will to not cause pain and not care. It was tricky, because at the beginning she had loved it, she had relished in the thought of killing him and making him scream, but now as she stared at him there was only more sadness and contempt then anything. In her eyes he had become nothing more than an animal, and when animals ran wild and feral, it was in their best interest to put them down. It was like her plants. When they were dying, or injured it was better to cut them and help them regrow another way, then let them stay there as death slowly crept upon them.

She had to believe she was doing him some sort of favour. She had to, otherwise she would not be able to attack him. Not a few days ago the task would have been impossible. She would have been completely unable to attack her own ally. Even if she was forced to, but now she had to. Now she was being faced with a task that was as difficult it was annoying. At least she wasn't facing off against Xanthus or Locust for that matter. The task before her would have been impossible.

”I feel sorry for you more then anything. I feel more sadness then anything. You’ve become this thing. You’re more of an animal then anything. You’re psychotic, mad and feral. It is like there is no real Drace in there anymore. Just a thing walking around with his skin.” She eyed him. And then she lunged, her sword flashing in the light. ”A rabid animal must be put down.” She said, tone completely devoid of all emotion.

[attacks Drace -- sword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Shallow cut -- 3.5 damage]

She wondered. She wondered where Locust was. She wondered what she was doing. She had not yet heard a single canon call out in this day. She had only heard silence and in between the silence was the ringing clash of their weapons meeting, or the more disturbing sound of metal slicing into flesh. It was disgusting and more often than not she found herself forcing herself not to flinch. Even the way the skin tore, it slid through flesh like butter, it slides through bone like nothing was there. It was scary at how easily a weapon like a sword or knife or glaive could destroy. They had never been made for anything, but pain. They were weapons created purely t destroy another’s life. It was crazy how much a career became obsessed with them. They were taught from the minute they could walk how to handle, use and control a weapon. But the cruellest thing of all was how they were taught to attack before defending. If you were to ask nay career they would tell you that a weapon was meant for killing. No one ever chose to use it as a way of defence. No one thought that a swords soul purpose was to defend a life. And those that did just assumed the attacking part was just as much defending as attacking was? They’d argue that you were protecting your life, so why could killing someone not be an excuse for death? It was a narrow minded, disgusting observation and one Opal had always tried to not be a part of.

It was why she was the oddball, the family member with the least amount of respect. It was why Pyrite had ripped into her, telling her without a moment of hesitation that she could and would never be like Emerald. Maybe Opal did not have to be her sister; maybe she did not have to be anyone, but herself. The further she travelled in these games the more she realised that she was perhaps doing it the right way. Emerald had not lasted as long as she had, maybe being like her sister’s in the way of ruthlessness and old heartedness would. No, she would do it her way. She would stand tall, be calm and fight. She would not let rage control her movements. She would use her experience and skill to beat him, not anger and hate and even though those very emotions boiled within her she forced them to not become a part of each of her movements. That would only lead to mistakes and Opal Shore was not one to make mistakes. Well, actually, except for the mistake of taking Drace as an ally, she had to admit, although grudgingly, that that was probably her worst mistake of these games, but hey, everyone made mistakes, she just had to learn from them.

Drace spoke again, his tone as sarcastic and annoying as ever. It was really starting to piss her off. She snorted as the next words fled from his filthy lips. They were as boring and dim-witted as almost everything he had said. The boy seemed to lack any form of creativity when it came to mocking and snarky comments. Opal could hardly say she was a genius, but she did, at the least, have enough sense to say something that was remotely cruel. Shrugging with mock boredom she planted the sword tip on the ground and when Drace lunged at her she refused to budge an inch, instead she let his knife get her, cutting into the flesh of her chest. She did not flinch and the stab of pain that proceeded the movement became just another ache that resinated throughout her entire body. She had never been in this much pain before. Gritting her teeth fought back a groan of pain, the only time she had ever felt any pain close to this had been the one time she had broken her arm in training. That had been bad, but then the guy she had been put against had been three years older then her and much more skilled with the mace then her. It had hardly been a fair fight.

Opal had held her ground for over five minutes, dashing backwards and away from the reach of his weapon. But eventually he had caught her and she had ended with a broken arm, shattered from wrist to elbow. That had been weeks of rest and recovery, most of which had been spent inside and not with her garden. That had, in all honesty, been the hardest part of the entire ordeal. Lifting her sword up once more she turned to her opponent. A small smile tugged itself onto her lips. "Oh, how horrible. I'm so sorry you find your own death so horrible. Don't worry, we are almost there, just bear with me, have to give the viewer's a show." She replied, her tone cold and mocking. Then without hesitating she lashed outwards, sword swinging through the air, and the blade screamed, begging for Drace's blood.

[attacks Drace -- sword]
[dice=200+1000]
[sc on forehead -- 4.5 damage]