fortified } { dustyn chase vs mutts | day 6

He did not know how to give the people what they wanted. He did not know what he had done to be punished day after day. But something was different. Something in him wanted to try.

It was the same him that had not minded draining poor Neptune of his life, the same him that would kill again and again to make it back home. It was the same him that slept alone under the stars, the same him who he was suddenly realizing had always been there.

So he told them a story.

"When I heard my father admit that my five year old brother was all he wanted in a son, when the girl of my dreams ignored me and pushed me away, I stayed strong."

His vision clouds with tears, but not of sorrow: of anger.

"When my friend disappeared and never came back, and another became a monster of circumstance, I refused to break." Pictures of Roxanne watching and pursing her lips, or Holden (if he was alive,) nodding his head urged him further.

"And watching my friends here die?"

He breathed in.

"It has finally done the trick."

They could call him crazy, or set him up to die. He did not care. (He didn't know that he could.)

"I'm finally a ruin. Happy now?" He shouted to the skies. "I guess you are, because now I can be the monster you want me to be!"

[Dustyn attacks Siren; Glaive]
Dz9CoUH|200+13000
[Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage]

{ credit to: zoë }

Pain blossomed in the form of a star, disfigured and bleeding from the area just behind his thumb. He wondered if it would scar, if that tiny, deep, aching wound would serve as a reminder of the foe he met in solitude for the rest of the life he would never have. Even when they laid his tired body to rest, six feet deep with a whole to match in his little brother's heart, (and Bette's, and Artemis's, and Candee's, maybe even his parents' as well,) would the scar still remain?

He stared at his foes with eyes wide and distraught. Did their being there truly mean the Capitol had grown tired of him? Was this his death sentence? Their claws were the pens, his blood the ink, his flesh the contract. With each second that passed, he was at risk of signing his soul over to them, and his core shook with fear, anger, disgust, and, honestly, understanding.

"You'll have to work for your meal," he spoke through gritted teeth, and he attacked once again.

[Dustyn attacks Siren; Glaive]
nFeaVbi_200+13000
[Severed Left Foot at Ankle -- 9.0 damage]

{ credit to: zoë }

filler mhm

[Dustyn attacks Banshee; Glaive]
oA_mzsy2200+13000
[13175 -- Deep Gash on Back of Head -- 9.0 damage]

{ credit to: zoë }

filler post 2

[Dustyn attacks Banshee; Glaive]
ja_u6_B5200+13000
[-]

{ credit to: zoë }