paint the sky r e d {ss vs muttz}

The anthem came and showed two faces. Travers watched the girl from one and the girl from nine disappear. Never to be heard from again—but there, still. For the ones that lived they would know their names, would see the replays, would have questions for how they felt for being the one that remained. Time would ease the wound but there would always be the dread, the simple thought that without one to say their names they would be written off of history forever.



She was alive that morning, surviving to day two. Lips parched and face scowling, Travers awoke in a fetal position. The night had brought nothing but gray. Numbness had returned where there had been life. Only the feeling that they needed to continue, that there was more for them to see, persisted. The other alliance was long since gone. She wondered when she would see them again; wondered when she wanted to know if any of them would be seen again. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stood, leg still pained but better now.



Iris was first alight, making sure that they were pressing to the next section of the arena. Travers thought her pretty; the confidence she exuded seemed to press and mold the rest of them. That was all they could hope for—to breathe life into one another. Each day would be a testament to one another, the fragile bonds between the lower districts and this fledgling career. Travers had still not spoken a word of her transformation but, how and when would she need to? This was her truth, and truth was like the morning dew—only those who dared to live among the quiet and still heard it.



But they could not rest, could not stop and wait for anyone to find them. There were still twenty-two in total; boys and girls that all shared threads to bring them home. Travers wondered if there would be a light out of this hellish place. This had been a choice for her, not the way the rest had been plucked from their homes. And now, with the foul stench of sulfur, Travers stepped carefully along the path. The darkness gave way to a boiling pool of red. Travers paused a moment, only to ponder whose blood had been spilled to make such a place.



Iris saunted forward then, snapping Travers out of her daydream. She whiffed, falling forward, followed by Emmery. Travers clenched her teeth and noticed the spiders slipping down the walls. An eye for an eye—a debt needed to be paid after the long scar had been put upon her face the night before. And so she would, because there was nothing to stand in their way. They had to live.

[Heathcliff Travers attacks cave spider #1 with sword]

rV7YPIgYsword

1045 -- Deep Gash on Chest -- 9.5 damage
 (Sword)

Made by Frankel

Just like fire, burning out the way
If I can light the world up for just one day
Watch this madness, colorful charade
No one can be just like me any way

I miss, but Emmery quickly delivers a blow onto tbe huge monster, and then Heath destroys a little spider that I hadn't even noticed was there. My eyes dart swiftly to another side of me, where another spider was quickly scuttling away over the floor, joining the huge monster in it's fight against us. The gamemakers appear to really want us killed, to see our blood drip down into the pool.

That's not going to happen if I can help it.

Heath and Emmery fighting as hard as they can, and so I must do so as well. I must not let my allies down. Even thought I know that I won't be the one walking out of here, if I can make it one of them I can die in peace. I want to give them the chance to escape from the darkness, even if it means making myself stay in the void.

I glower at the monsters standing before us and swiftly drag out my bag, placing my flail back inside and grabbing the knife that Heath had given to me. I grasp the handle and take a deep breath. The spider comes jumping at me, taking a large swipe at me, but only just striking me on the calf.

Before it can scuttle back to a safe distance, I swing.

Just like magic, I'll be flying free
I'mma disappear when they come for me
I kick that ceiling, what you gonna say?
No one can be just like me any way

<3 U For the Table Frankel

Travers had never thought that they were much of anything. The world spun in a shower of blood and sparks, Emmery and Iris finding and not finding their targets. The creatures before them hissing, the blood around them gurgling. Travers took another breath. What would Magdalene think now, watching Travers hold a sword? She was the better fighter, but that the tribute from two had some of her strength. And here they were, facing a small onslaught, struggling, pushing through to survive. Travers took another foul breath of the terrible air and grit her teeth.



Perhaps the change had brought along more than just the admission she was different. When Travers looked at Iris, she could see a warrior, one that would strike down all in her path. The external beauty was dwarfed by her power; had Travers not seen this before? And Emmery, her heart so big and full, was nothing without the power to live honestly, to be true. Travers had never believed in destiny, but there was something to the fact that she had been placed with these two. They had changed her, brought her out anew, and lit the fire now burning in her stomach.



“Stand back,” Travers grunted, holding a sword between two small hands, the heavy weapon glittering in the fading light. She would protect them—she had too much to learn for them to fall here and now. It turned out, the debt was a higher price than they had anticipated.

[Heathcliff Travers attacks cave spider #2 with sword]

uNM|XVKosword
1132 -- Stabbed in Thigh -- 8.5 damage

(Sword)

Made by Frankel

Travers swung wide at the spider—with a flicker of light, the thing moved and escaped. The other beast found weakness within her and sliced a cut, not too deep but enough to bring fresh warm pain. Iris didn’t waste a second finishing off what Travers could not, her knife gutting the creature in a swift motion. Emmery swung again, this time missing the loch, the only beast remaining. Travers listened to the boiling blood as it gurgled, her allies standing at either side. They were not lost, not too far gone. Well enough that they could live to see another day, should the world have wanted it. At once Travers’s eyes went wide and she heard the voice of her mother, the same that had come yesterday when they lay Renee to rest.



Nothing’s promised.



A cannon shot boomed in the distance, and Travers loosened her grip on her sword. Another of the twenty-four had fallen. She blinked, at once a part of and outside herself. The day had started with the libertine from district one; the mysterious district partner from two; the girl who’d struck Travers yesterday and the lone wolf from three; the pirate and the girl from four—had Scout fallen?; Emmery here now and Minos (oh sweet boy) from five; Lucrezia (how she liked to say that name) and the boy from six with the wild hair; Iris here, the bearded boy too from seven; both eights (she knew so little of either); the handsome one from nine; both tens, drawling onward; the elevens (she hoped Weaver had not fallen); and the twelves (there was much less love for the boy, though not enough for death). If she had to guess it would’ve been the one from four so banged up she would have died, but—nothing was promised.



She had been born the day before. Standing over Renee and surrounded by the very same boys and girls she would have to strike down to live, Travers had realized two things. The first was simple: to understand what was inside meant an outward reflection of truth. No more Heathcliff, no more living as the boy, the young man that had grown up dancing and shimmying to the calls of all else. Only Travers, only truth. Because in her truth could she find beauty, and strength. A tired story—inner strength, outer beauty, both the same because one should have appreciated beauty in all things. But this was where the second lesson came; the world was beautiful when living for oneself, and loving oneself enough for that story to be true. Death would come, perhaps today or tomorrow or sixty years from that moment; Travers could only be concerned with the then.



“We can do this,” Travers whispered, hands resetting along the hilt of the sword. Repitition bread confidence and so she repeated once more. “We can do this.” One foot behind the other (how close sword fighting posture was to a dance), and Travers stared hard into the eyes of the beast. How unafraid one could be when living for the moment, not imagining a slit throat or gouged eye. She would only take the best parts of herself, then. No doubt, no discussion of all the little things that had gone wrong. Each second thought was only a weight that would pull down her feet to darkness. Here was about pressing forward, ever forward, with the world as their witness.



[Heathcliff Travers attacks the loch with sword]

7gnerMf5sword

1063 -- Deep Gash on Cheek -- 8.5 damage

(Sword)

Made by Frankel