o h a n a {sol v atticus day 7}

My damaged body did not put an end to the hurt. Even after Celia and blind-man-from Four were gone and another body was claimed at the hands of Sol, I still felt pain. It wasn't the pain of having Quadrys's killer be able to see another day, but rather the actual pain I feel in my wounds. The pain today seemed small at first, but it slowly began to take it's toll. The cuts and gashes from days prior were all adding up. Today, it all became too much.

Why fight if you'll just keep adding injury to your body? It's not like the pain goes away. It sticks with you, even when the medicals in the Capitol stitch you up, there are still many wounds that won't go away. There's things you had that you'll never have again. You can lose both of your hands in the games, and even if you won, you'll never have the same hands again. You'll never feel what you felt for years upon years. Instead you'll become someone you're not, fake. Wounds change people, and I'm not exactly sure if the pain is worth surviving. There's still more pain to come if you survive this swampy hellhole.

The sizzling of the wooden tree still rings out as I limp. Hopefully they're still behind me, hopefully they don't leave me. When it gets down to eight or so, it's difficult to resist the temptation to kill. They wouldn't dare. We've had six days to decide if we want to kill each other, and none of us have taken that plan and put it into action. So why now? Why, when we have half of the remaining tributes, split up to fight our own battles? We'd be stupid to, in all honesty.

Astrid, Nell, and Sol follow closely behind me, and I wait for them to catch up. My arms and legs are bloodied from Celia and Four, and I guess I'm lucky to be alive. Any small adjustment they could have made on their shots of axes and javelins might have struck me somewhere else. An inch of movement could've killed me, and I would've been dead on the sixth day.

Not even a week of breathing in the chilling air, and I already feel among the dead. Astrid, Sol, and I have all felt the pain of injuries. In fact, we've almost died at least once. Yet Nell, our makeshift mother, stands tall with few injuries. It's surprising when I see her nearly unscathed. She probably could take all three of us on and win, but she's better than that. She's better than that. Hopefully.

Astrid no longer has her little rock that she believes to be a living creature, prepared to hatch any second. Instead, it's owner is Nell. Nell Locke really is a kind woman, someone who takes care of the injured and helps people whenever they need her. I wish I could be influenced by her, so instead of fucking up every second, I can actually be worth something.

A monster such as I only knows how to take. When the species I belong to comes along, they'll take too, and it will turn into a tug-of-war. Nell isn't a monster, and neither is Sol. They give, they care, they know how to help when people need them. They're reliable. Astrid is, too, but her weapons never sink the killing blow despite her District's past in the games.

Both Astrid and Nell help me, while Sol tends to himself. It seems like our enemies want the males dead rather than the women, but that could just be because we seem the most injured. The fingers that poke into my body start with a shocking pain, but then it feels nice. Even when I moan and try to swat their hands away, they don't stop trying to help me. They care for me, and there's only one other time that I can remember that I helped someone. It was the first day and only day I can remember where Nell was hurt, and I helped her. On the first and sixth day, she assisted me and helped me to fight another day. Surely, without these three people by my side, I would be dead.

"Thank you.." I say, half grateful and half in tears. Still I cry, but not for my physical wounds, and moreso the mental ones that will make the tears continue to flow like a spinning windchime. I let Celia Mortuus run loose throughout the arena even when I vowed to slaughter her for what she did to King Lexig.

I breathe, still feeling the smoke in my lungs from the burning Cornucopia. The fire continues to rage, and I'm glad we're at a safe distance from it. It'd be hard to survive if you're breathing in smoke from wood every second. In fact, if we stayed there any longer, there probably would have been physical damage to our body. It's like the cigars I've seen my father smoke many times. It always gave him some sort of high as he tried to plan new inventions, but it was breaking his insides, poisoning him in a way that he'd never be able to detect. I wouldn't be surprised if he's dead, and considering my plans on playing in death's yard, I will never know.

The sun's light begins to fade as it falls behind the swampy biome. Instead, the stars twinkle and the moon raises. In the darkness, the fire of the arena's landmark shines. I feel confident that nobody is going to sneak up on my allies and I since we're so close to the fire. It'd be foolish to risk getting something as small as a burning twig on you, and then you are set alight. That'd be another foolish way to have your cannon blow. Then again, it is stupid to be stationary near the fire, as that could happen to us at any moment. It's death's home and you have to take risks if you want to knock on the front door and live.

The burning tree paints a beautiful picture in the sky, the small specs of red floating up in the sky almost makes it feel like it's sunrise. I wrap new bandages around my leg wound. Celia seemed to rip through the old one, slicing the bloody wrapping off of my body. Luckily, she didn't cut into bone, so I can still walk. Not that I plan to during the night. It'd be stupid to walk away from a group during the night. You could get lost in the darkness, especially with the tree being the only source of light. You would have to go away, out into the edges of the arena.

The anthem rings, although it is not dead silent due to the fire. I listen anyway, the chimes and trumpets chirping with the company of the sizzling flames.



Noelia Tibideaux, District Ten.

This was the girl that Sol Shim had mercilessly striked in hopes to keep us alive. For the third day in a row he killed, each time it was necessary for either his or my own survival. I let out a sigh as her face slowly begins to fade into the sky. A true star, she was. Her relative died last games and now her. It was the same with Keeni, and Eckhart, and Quadrys. Now, for the fourth time this Games, a past tribute's relative died.

Iain Miristioma, District Eleven.

A victor's relative. I guess it must be both a blessing and a curse to have a victor be related to you. It puts a huge target on your back, yet it brings in sponsors by the second. It's quite a shame, though. I watched him only three days ago as he went to Cecelia Brontz's burning flesh. He was fragile, and somebody finally figured out how to break him.

Atticus Manor, District Three.

I see my face in the sky, one of the only times I've actually managed to see my stupid face aside from in the mirror. I let out a quiet yet powerful breath before lying down. Wait, I'm dead, I've already been stripped away my right to breath, my right to live a happy life. I was taken away from those freedoms at birth.

And now I'm dead, and nothing changes.

Nothing changes in death's yard.

atticus manor: {n} nothing.

Nothing changes when he transfers through to hell. That's where nothing goes.

Nothing is scared. Nothing is lonely.

Nothing screams when he wakes up from a scary dream. He's like a child, but not. He's nothing.



"NOTHING!" I scream on the top of my lungs and then quickly shut myself down, curling into a ball.

My eyes shoot every which way, trying to see if I'm in any danger. Dead. DEad. DEAd. DEAD. I'm DEAD.

I feel a familiar arm wrap around me. Sol. He's still hear, and by ear, it seems like the other two are not. They left, they did what I thought they'd never do. They just tarnished our odds of survival.

"Hey, calm down, buddy."

His words are calm, as if we're not dead. Astrid and Nell got away safely, but Sol and I have suffered a different fate. We're being punished, they got away with it. Someone is getting away with my murder, and with every shaken breath comes a small shriek.

"How.. can I.. calm down if we're dead?" I question Sol, hoping that somehow he can whip out an answer that gives me comfort. How?

"But we're not dead, Atticus.."

"We're not?" How can we be alive when I saw my face in the sky? I'm D-E-A-D.

"No, we're not." Sol's hair shakes as his grip on me becomes tighter.

Maybe it was just a dream, a dream that turned into a horrible nightmare.

"Okay.." I say, the tears beginning to slowly make a hault at my eyelids. My breathing is broken and heavy, but I still manage to inch my way closer to him. "Can you tell me another story, Sol?"

Instead of his face shaking horizontally, it bobs up and down, signalling acceptance to my request. "I can, what kind of story do you want?"

"One about your family.." I've never really asked specifically about Sol's family. I've questioned him about how he likes like in Five, but I never dug deep into his roots.

He begins to speak, "Alright. So.. my family. When you'd first see us- it wouldn't look like your normal group. An odd bunch, really."

Sol Shim goes on to talk about his family. From his Ma' and Pa', to older sister Rhowhen, all of his younger siblings like Cal, Hayk, and Clem. He even goes on to speak about Luna, who he says was his one and only friend.

He even began to talk about a second family of his. One with a dreamer, a druggie, a crazy, and a mute.

As he continues to speak, I drift back off into sleep. This time, my dream is nice.



Quadrys Lexig stands by me, holding me tight. There was only one day I spoke to him, but he changed me. For a while, Quadrys Lexig made nothing into something. Even if he did think my name was Asterisk, words didn't matter. It was his kind yet somewhat cruel actions that made me feel free.

I wish he was still here.. so I could be something rather than nothing and free instead of isolated..



I had woken up into something different. I woke up into an unfamiliar area, definitely not where Sol told me the story a night before.

I do, however, hear a familiar voice call out to me. "Atticus, wake up."

It is Sol, standing only a few feet away from me.

We are caged up like animals, and I bet that bloodshed is going to come. Bloodshed that will involve a cannon screaming through the air.

I breath, smelling the bark of the area freshen in my nostrils. It feels good not to breathe in toxic air, and instead fresh oxygen. There's still a little speck of the fumes coming throughout, but it's mainly clean. I feel comfortable again.

"I know what has to happen next," I speak to the ground, hoping that Sol doesn't hear what I said.

My eyes look toward the ground, and aside from the floor, we're suspended in the air in the Cornucopia. I breathe, my heart beginning to pound as I hold my axe tight in my hand.

"If you win, you'll always be hurt.." I hear his voice, his words sending chills up and down my spine, over and over again.

We're caged, and his words make no sense. Is he losing his sanity?

With a quick inhale of the fresh oxygen, I get ready to fight with my axe. Even though it will bring me down in weight, I'll only be brought up in odds.

I can't let my odds sink now.

"This isn't the finale, Sol Shim. There's no winner yet."

He then lets out more of his inspirational and carefully thought out words, but the swing of my axe blocks his speech from my ears.

[attacks sol shim; axe]
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[11196 -- Deep Gash on Left Thigh -- 8.0 damage]