The Head and the Heart // Cato, Arrows
Feb 19, 2016 18:10:14 GMT -5
Post by charade on Feb 19, 2016 18:10:14 GMT -5
KATELYN PERSIMMON
It was…strange, watching the games with two people. Comforting, in a way. Most victors had to face the games alone. Not so for the three of them. Not that it made it any easier to watch the bloodbath. Not that it really was one. To Katelyn’s surprise the bloodbath consisted of several half-hearted weapon swings followed by nearly all of the tributes rabbiting away. No cannons. Her gut twisted with unease. The Capitol wouldn’t like that. The gamemakers would have to start forcing situations on the first day. It’d be like the quell, where the low number of deaths in the first few days had required a ridiculous amount of mechanical mutts to thin the herd later. She wondered what that would mean for Iain and Carrita.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Carrita and her allies hadn’t made it very far from the cornucopia when a loud creaking noise rent the air and a tree toppled downward, landing on the three tributes and trapping them. Attracted by the noise or perhaps just smelling the blood in the water, a swarm of tributes appeared and started hacking away at them as they tried to get free. Katelyn felt very old indeed as she watched the carnage. Was this a warning to the district eleven victors? To Arbor? To tell careers not to align themselves with lower district fodder? The boy from two died first, and the boy from twelve didn’t last much longer. Then one of Soap’s tributes raised a spiked mace that looked like it weighed more than Carrita and brought it down on her.
There was a sickening crunch and young girl lay still. Another cannon fired and the ever familiar twitch seized her back for a third time. Her shoulders sagged and she dropped her face into her hands to hide the tears. Carrita had been too young. Too much of an easy target. Sorrow pierced her heart at the thought of failing another tribute, and so soon into the games this time around. But then there was an exclamation from the commentators and Katelyn looked back up through bleary eyes. The tributes had already started dividing up the spoils of the dead and were dispersing, but the girl from twelve bent down and started slashing the bodies with her razor fan. For a moment her mind was blank as she tried to fathom what Celia was doing, and when the first flesh and sinew encrusted bone was torn free from its mortal shell, she yelped in horror, standing from her seat reflexively.
Bile rose in the back of her throat and she lasted thirty seconds before her body necessitated that she run away from the screen and retch into the kitchen’s garbage can. For the briefest of instants, she wondered how Arbor was taking the unholy actions of one of his tributes; then the rest of her breakfast came up. The comments from Flickerman comparing Celia to Beretta Corleon faded to a dim buzz that prickled the back of her skull. Somewhere back home, Carrita’s family was suffering through the desecration of their thirteen year old’s body, to say nothing of the Cake's watching their son’s district partner work her evil on him.
A familiar cold fury returned, a bitter wind that turned the blood in her veins to ice; the warmth in her eyes hardened to be replaced by an unforgiving steel. She wiped her mouth with a dishcloth, crumpling the soiled rag and tossing it into the trash. This went farther than the anger she’d felt against Quartz Caplin. Against Margaret Dubois or Someith Krearns. She’d seen a new level of the damned in Celia Mortuus’s eyes and she wouldn’t stand for it. She walked slowly, but with purpose as she rejoined the other two victors by the couch, pursed lips curling into a snarl and teeth grinding together.
“If nothing in the arena kills that bitch, I’ll send her to hell myself.”
"And I don't wanna live like this again
I thought you said it would be so simple"
table coding (c) ghosty
