Truly Ruth-Less {There's no Ending to Septuth//DP}

Truly Ruth-Less {There's no Ending to Septuth//DP} Nov 25, 2015 1:48:05 GMT -5

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Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on Nov 25, 2015 1:48:05 GMT -5

Death Does Not

Do us part

My body drums against Septys, as his feet carry us both to a far away distance. What have I done? In one blink I was refusing bow out, and now… Warm blood blankets my skin, providing a nice protection from the brisk bite of the exterior Panem. The loving arms of Septys shield me from the Terror the Capitol’s hungry to create. I can feel my heart racing to resupply blood, while it also seems to be hardly beating at the same time. But Septys’s Rhythm pounds strongly against my ear, reassuring me that I at least did not collapse in vain.

“I didn’t kill them…” My fingers curl around the thick fabric of Septys’s shirt, desperate to prove to him that I haven’t died just yet. “I didn’t kill a single one!” Rage consumes my veins that have already sliced apart. What have I done? Regret plagues me worse then any physical pain could manage. My organs twist uncontrollably, and it’s not in desperation to repair its mortal being. “We have to go back.” There’s not a single fiber in my strength to support my desire, but I’m desperate to change the ending that awaits me. What would Lullaby be saying at this moment?

I can hear her sweet tone scolding me to wake the hell up, to pull my shit together. Oh how I adore the way she uses that voice to her advantage to be the manipulating Bitch that she is, just as any truly good Career would. Don’t hate me forever, Baby Sis. Don’t doubt that I didn’t try my hardest to return to you. My best was simply not enough. Please learn from my mistakes if nothing else. Perhaps one day you’ll be proud. “Septys…I need just one kill.” For her, to show Lullaby just how powerful us Fosters are…but I know that’s now an impossible task. What have I done?

Nothing.

The moment that I required it most, my training had slipped from my grasp. For once, I was not ruthless at all. I’ve returned to that scarred little ten-year-old girl, whom was pleading to be something more. I couldn’t care for Joy, and a new career was needed to burry that void. And now? Now there’s no chance I’ll ever be able to shelter her from this cruel Panem; now Mother’s assured that I can’t provide for them as Father could. They’ll never return, just as I never will.

Overwhelming warmth surrounds me in Septys’s embrace, as I suddenly realize there’s somehow still a single ounce of relief remaining. “I can’t die yet.” I speak as strong as I can through my torn throat. “I have to see you make it to the end.” He has to. If he were to crumble as I have, it’d be the most agonizing regret of them all. My brain recoils back into a violent spiral.

I won’t be able to witness that curling grin upon his face as we taste the final battle approaching. I will no longer be able to go against Mr. Foster’s wise words of not investing. I’ll miss the most vital moment of protecting him, while still being satisfied if it resulted in my last breath…I should of considered that earlier. What have I done?

“I’m not going to though.” It’s the brutal truth that’s difficult to swallow, or perhaps it’s the large gash in my neck causing problems. Either way, I force myself to continue. “But you better win. I’ll kill you myself in our next life if you don’t.” Last District One commanded this to her Lover before dying, I’m begging to have the same fate.

Ruth Foster--District one

Truly Ruth-Less {There's no Ending to Septuth//DP} Nov 25, 2015 14:02:16 GMT -5

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Post by Muffinface on Nov 25, 2015 14:02:16 GMT -5

I'll follow you into the dark.

I've got this twitching in my left hand that won't fucking stop, and even though we're too far away for it to matter, I can still hear Heather's voice and gasps from Tyler and just FUCK.

The hurricane swirling beneath my skin screams from fury, indignation, bewilderment, dismay, and desperation. Why? Why, why why? Why did she decide springing in on them would be such a fucking fantastic idea? We're careers, but we didn't have to probe for trouble. Damn it Ruth!

She's going to leave me alone like everyone else in my life, and now I can't fucking breathe because this knot in my throat is so constricting, so forcefully tight and I can't see where I'm going because my fucking eyes are too blurry to see and my face is wet but I can't smell blood even though it's permeating the air around us and -

FUCK.

I put her down. I have to put her down. I don't want to- I want to keep her close in this purgatory against my chest forever but if I trip again then I might as well have ~~killed~~mutilated her- and she's screaming about death and killing and I can't, I can't. "No, you didn't." the words slip out of my lips rougher, harsher than I'd like, but SHIT I'm so furious like a father catching their kid with drugs, or a desperate lover unprepared to lose the only thing grounding him.

Her spine eases down into the undergrowth while trees stretch high above us, leafy tendrils a welcome reprieve from the tyranny of the sun. My fingers shift from gripping her shoulders and knees to stroking tender skin on her cheeks, tilting her gaze, pointing it at my face. Her head rests in my knees, much like Taurus' did, before he passed on, before we sent him out to sea.

Water splashes, cascading from fuck knows where and pounds into her forehead. Get a grip man, what the fuck are you doing- my wrist moves and wipes it away, raising to dry my face but it's like an endless torrent, like the storm needs some outlet or else I'll explode.

It's my fault- I couldn't protect her. For one split second I let fear claim my heart, and look at what I did- I fucking killed her, this is all me. My shoulders sway backwards and forwards, I can feel it. I've never been a pillar of strength for fucking anybody, and now- she's going. She's leaving me for that next place, and I need to just drag the shattered pieces of my mirror together and bind them with whatever sinew and tissue I can spare.

"Ruthless..." I whisper, my lips trembling as my fingers lose themselves in her scarlet tinged locks. She knows. She knows she's about to succumb to blood loss- this isn't Tyler's, it's hers. TWO LITERS I recall, the deep voice preaching, sick of deaths from shallow cuts. Is he proud now?

Her words make me laugh- but its a twisted sound, wrong in my throat. "Yeah, I'll win for you." Her words sound so familiar, so damn recognizable, and I laugh again though it's more like a choked gag. "I love you." The words tumble free, while my hands, desperate for something to hold onto seize her fingers in my own.

I'm not built to go alone. Was there really ever any question?