Scorched by the Red Sun {Locust, Mik, Yaa day 6}
Aug 17, 2013 13:57:14 GMT -5
Post by Python on Aug 17, 2013 13:57:14 GMT -5
[rand=25315611041150987059280025074258453253739103674888605785155110061169]The stench of scorched flesh followed her like her own shadow. Her escape from the carnage meant shelter and healing opportunities, but it also meant a separation from her allies, even the one most precious to her. She had trudged in search of Opal until the weight of her injuries was no longer bearable. When she was safely concealed in the outskirts of the moss forest she tended to her injuries with teeth clenched painfully. She had promised herself not to be bested yet again by a fellow tribute during the second battle for items and had vowed not to sustain another potentially hindering wound - yet here she was, drowning in her own heavy breaths as she struggled to maintain her previously unwavering composure. She had hoped to utilize the feast to her advantage and redeem herself in front of all who were watching - her family especially, because she knew what they thought of her techniques and she knew that they expected her to die like every district four tribute that had competed in the past ten years. She was not going to allow it, burns or no burns. Even when the feast had morphed into a living nightmare in mere seconds.
Her throat felt raw from both lack of water and screaming. She hissed through the agony radiating from her left arm as she applied bandages to the tender areas and used the untouched needle and thread from her medical kit to sew up the worst of it. With every prick of the needle she winced and sucked in a breath to stifle a whimper, tilting her head back against a tree and squeezing her eyelids shut to battle incoming tears. She was in the worst possible condition she had ever imagined, but this time it was not herself to blame; it was that imbecile from district three, Drace. He had successfully proven himself to be the most unreliable asset, sparking a fire to ignite an explosion that consumed his arm and ripped it into charred chunks as the flames bolted through the fog like a blanket of heat and burned the other tributes where they stood. It was one of the most idiotically dangerous stunts she had ever witnessed, and now she was suffering because of it. Silently she cursed him in her mind, over and over until she was satisfied that he would somehow hear her despite the irrationality of it, and know that his name was in bold print on the top of her hit list. Crossed out on that list were three more names; Florence, Sierra, and Luciana.
Luciana’s demise had been Locust’s doing, because what hope did an amputee have in a feast? If anything, she had been merciful, sparing the girl the difficulty of hopping through the arena while the capitol cackled at her condition and waited for a pack of mutts to chew her to pieces. The other two deaths were bonuses; Sierra had evaded death twice in Locust’s presence, and her severed head rolling through the tar pits was a reminder that death would always win if one was unworthy. Locust would’ve performed Death’s bidding herself had Luciana’s district partner not taken the matter into his own hands. Florence’s death had merely been another victory for each surviving tribute, another number added to the deceased courtesy of Yaa’s swift hand and eye gouging. Three deaths reduced the number to seven. She could count the number of tributes on her fingertips and assign each finger a name. She knew them all, she always had. Now it was a matter of wiping the slate clean until she was the only name remaining - the name that would shimmer gold when it decorated the capitol alongside her framed visage.
The absence of her ally was a silent haunting. When she was finally finished patching herself up - drenched in sweat and trembling from the incessant burning that she knew would never cease - she took the plants out of her bag and chewed them to help relieve her stomach cramps (they seemed so insignificant now). There was still another bundle in her bag that she had stolen from Luciana - along with the extra jar of tar, the battleaxe and the silver cloak she had draped over herself - but she decided to save it for another day. She waited hours shielded by the fog and the trees for Opal to come stumbling into the area in one piece. She wanted her ally to return to her - it was hard to admit that she felt that she needed Opal by her side - but realistically, what were the odds? Now that she could think somewhat clearly, she recalled watching a tribute attack Opal during the feast. He had been the reason behind their sudden separation. She scowled at Drace’s betrayal; who did he think he was? Challenging a career like a fool? He had already earned his reputation as a moron thanks to the fire incident, so she supposed he now had nothing to lose but his life. Perhaps that was where Opal had gone; to find him and end him for his betrayal.
After a night of lapsing in an out of restless sleep, squirming in the moss to find a position that would let her burns simmer without delay, she woke up aching and sleep deprived. Gathering her belongings and mustering the energy to climb to her feet was a slow process, but once she was maneuvering about she was able to maintain a steady pace. She did not want her family and their friends to think of her as defeated. She was no longer able to wear a mask of complete apathy, not with the burns scorching her flesh and searing her nerves each time she moved, but she would still walk with a purpose and fight with determination. She knew people would think little of her now given her condition, it was just a matter of proving them wrong. With the silver cloak billowing around her form she walked until fate brought her what she deserved: victims.
”My condolences,” she said, her tone lacking the apologetic kick needed to make her statement sincere. She was looking straight at Yaa and coating her Halberd in tar to light it aflame. ”For the loss you are about to suffer.” She turned toward Mikhail and sprung.
[uses 1 jar of tar]
[attacks Mikhail - Halberd]
[dice=200+13000]
Shallow Cut on Stomach -- 4.0 damage
Fire
[dice=50]
minor burn, +2 damage
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