begin the war. {big fight day 2}

Blood thick with regret as he can remember the words coming forth through his lips.

I volunteer.

It only took two words to shatter what little of respect he had for himself. It only took two words to set his body aflame with selfishness and regrets that hollow out his insides with aching pains that weren’t there. The embodiment of guilt ridden regret that lays on the taste buds of his tongue, sending his mouth into a state of sour bitterness of selfishness. The memories of the sweet taste that used to fill his mouth full of kind words and loving butterflies that fell into his stomach vanishing before him like a ghost of a different, dream-like man. After all, the sweetness was always overcome with the sour disrespect for the selfish ones. Dreams were an escape. Reality was a chain that had no key to unlock the shackles of pain.

Night wasn’t what he had expected it to be. Anarchy, Cassiopeia, and Callixtus were gathered around like a group of misfits, worry within Riordan’s veins at the two new tributes that were a part of their group. Mostly, Cassiopeia who still gave his body shivers of fear that sent him to memories of Jequirity getting cut down by Daria Staite. Sitting upon the ground, his hands grab the hat that sits upon his head, eyes staring at a dead Eckhart with a harp playing tunes in the background. A hum in his voice of the eerie tune, remembered upon his tongue. A frown plastered to his face as he puts it back upon his head. Eyes staring upwards, until the anthem blares to life.

Heart sinks into the depths of despair again. Brooke Destin’s face smiles back at him, gorgeous in every second. Tears prick at his eyes, avoidance of the others in his skin. Silence in his ears as he stares at the girl who joins the fields of flowers. Red and Purple of color, with a shadow of a girl laughing softly. Flowers braided in their hair as he can remember her. Kindness in her tone, while he spoke of Jequirity to her. The only person he told the truth to about her and everything she had truly meant to him. Brooke’s gorgeous face staring at him as the guilt fills his blood. Heart shatters in the hole it’s sank into. Pieces of himself lost with every single word he remembers from Brooke Destin’s lips. The worst was yet to come. A tragedy of an act stuck within his mind.

They all cried.

He cried.

As tears fill his eyes and cheeks red with saddened emotions. Avoidance of his allies, as he stares up in the skin, heart gone within graves of the dead. A wooden coffin for every piece of himself that he had to lay to rest within his mind full of guilt and sorrows. Eyes stare to the sky once more, fire in his veins, sorrows in his soul, and selfishness in his taste. With the next face that he can recognize, his soul shatters. Pieces of it leaving the surface of Riordan Einfallen. The name Eckhart illuminated by a sense of failure into his blood and brain.

A promise broken by his own failure to watch out for them, protect them from the evil that lays within the human soul. An evil that they all had that consumed the body whole. Hatred and anger flowing in their veins, through their weapons, until blood comes out with a red burst. Heart beating, tears dripping, and his mind is racing. Elettra Eckhart was out there and broken. Elvania Eckhart was dead. The dreams of the flowers adding another soul to the batch. Violins, laughs, and flowers flowing through his dreams, only for them to feel so far away. Unreachable. Unachievable. Unbelievable.

Zanita was coming forth, and her words tickling his ears, with tear filled eyes. Riordan Einfallen has cried too much for one day. Tears of the weak man who stayed within his body. Strength being lost for a long time filled with death and depression. Alcohol, drugs, and so many other distractions that used to be stuck in his heart. Zanita’s skin still burns on his body, her touch forever stuck in his skin like it had been. The first night knowing that she’ll never be within his arms again. Heart shattered with her death. He needed the truth. He needed to know what happened to Zanita.

Waking up in the morning was tough. A stagnant body moving to the beat of his heart. Tear streaked cheeks gone and past as he moves with them. Worry flowing through him at his hand. The rose that appeared before him on his palm form the cut of the bush. An elegant and lovely red rose blooming upon his palm. Like the spirit of Jequirity guiding him through the arena with her hand hold his own. He can see her form pulling him slightly, the small smile upon her lips making him feel nostalgic. It wasn’t real, but how he wished it was.

They moved as one. Hearts and souls together. Each one of them were beginning to carry a piece of himself in their movements. Anarchy, the genius girl who showed him that he needed to search for what he wanted and never give up on himself. Even if he was a selfish man, she made him better. The boyfriend, even though they weren’t dating, Callixtus Shim. A man who he shouldn’t like since Sol Shim cut apart Amerika, but as he remembers her, the show always goes on. Then there was Cassiopeia Shaw, a killer in her own right, but he felt something deep down. There’s a heart somewhere within the feisty and vicious girl that was Cassie. A want to find what there was deep inside, open her up until he could find the real girl. The cast set for his performance of a lifetime.

Puddles. They were the first thing he saw. Interesting looks of the surrounding area that seem to melt. His body feels like it’s melting from all the walking they were doing. Hearts flutter to the beat of their own curiosity. Nothing bad could happen in a place like they were in. At least that’s what he had thought before he noticed the eight others. A swarm of people seem to appear, but his eyes first caught the names of Iris and Elettra in his mind. Iris’ cheek holding a rose of it’s own. Tears threaten to well up, but this was a fight waiting to happen. A small wave from the small girl and he smiles, in a friendly way. Rose hand waving back to the small Eckhart.

You are not alone, Riordan.

There was times when he felt alone, but he wasn’t alone now. Eyes catch Atlas Lumiere’s annoying and yet attractive face. Eyes roll up in his head. Annoyance upon his tongue as he prepares to speak. The joke of a kiss still in his memory. The black eye that he received still stuck in his mind. Lumiere was safe for now. He wanted him for last. He wanted to save him for the big finale. He wanted to save him for the final act of the show. A smirk upon his face as he spoke up to Atlas.

”Oh Lumiere. Looks like I ran into you finally. Ready for another kiss? Or shall I save it for Rammie over there.”

Ronnie Cheyne has already seen all of Rio, like Zanita. Except Riordan had woken up to a shirtless Ronnie Cheyne, fear in his heart, but regret not in his soul. A wink towards Ronnie Cheyne leaves his face as he turns back to see Callixtus begin the fight. Axe slamming into the one girl from ten, who’s name doesn’t come up. A sigh escapes his body. Heart and soul as one. Rose in his hand. The golden glaive gleams as he wields it in his hands. A frown upon his face as he stares at the girl from ten. Eyes scan to the Eckharts as he watches people fight. Elettra strikes Anarchy and he wants to scream at her to stop it, but his heart tells him not to. Anarchy isn’t meant to die now. Anarchy will live. He will live. Death was around, but not there for him.

Voice echoes as he strikes forward. Eyes trained on the girl his ally had struck. A smirk pulling at his lips, soul and heart with many of them there. Only a few didn’t carry a piece of him. The bitter taste of selfishness in his mouth. A chain attached him being only reality before him. Regret runs through his blood, but the will to live ran through his soul.

”I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.”

They were in a tragedy.

He was the star.

Lose it all or make everyone else lose it all.

This was the conflict.

The show was only beginning.

By some twist of fate- or luck- Cassiopeia was no longer alone. She had not cried for help, lost on the never ending river that she rode in hopes to one day finding the ocean. They had come out of the mist, lost themselves, begging her to spare them to save them from the cold fury of the life they had found themselves in. Cassiopeia had not wanted to help them at first, she would rather of seen their faces sink beneath the surface of the world but they had promised to protect her.

The one, had even promised to help her win.

Now they sat, together, in the hearth of the mansion. Cassiopeia watched them all closely as they found a place to settle for the night, she kept to the back of the group, to herself; part of her wanted to leave them to die, her fathers voice told her to kill them herself, but her mind told her to not be so stupid. They did not look like much, and nor were they much to the blonde. All broken humans, in one way or another, they had no chance of winning. They lacked Cassia's determination, sanity and training but she had no doubt that if she killed one, she might not make a second kill before Callixtus bought that axe down upon her neck in a furious rage dredged up from inside his mind.

So she kept them alive, reminding herself of their promises.

Night fell quickly, but linger daylight remained in the shame of the aurora which painted itself across the sky in whispering ribbons of colour- green, purple, blue, pinks- against the deep ebony darkness of the night sky. The creatures which swam in the abyss did not look so out of place, their silohette's could easily be passed for clouds sharing intimate dances with the aurora. It was beautiful and Cassia watched as iridescent light ebbed in through the windows, casting shadows where it caught the comb leant against the wall.

The sound of Panem's anthem, echoing across the painted sky, caught Cassia's full attention. Looking skyward, she watched as 10 faces appeared there. 10 faces of people she knew from studying the games, familiar- but strange- faces in the training center. Turner. Eckhart. These were all familiar faces, their namesakes had cursed them with unwanted fame but their ghosts, staring down at them with nervous smiles or determined stares, did not tug at Cassiopeia's heart strings.

It was a fact of the games, her father would tell her. People went into the games and they did not come back.

But she would.

---

Demons clawed at her skin, dragging her into the darkness as she screamed. A tiny child, barely 7 summers old, clawing at the hardwood floor, drawing splinters and tearing her nails as she tried to escape as the monster tried to pull her down into the depths. It's roar was so deafening that Cassie just screamed louder but no one heard her cries. "PLEASE!" She begged, fingers gripping at nothing as the beast just pulled her deeper into the darkness. And then she was-

f  a  l  l  i  n  g

in the belly of the beast.

---

Cassia woke with a start, beads of sweat drenching her skin as harsh sunlight began to spill over the arena. Her body trembled in fear that had beenn long forgotten, a ghost, the air thick as the water threatened to swallow her boat and her with it. Glancing at her sleeping allies, she let out a sigh of relief, closing her eyes reluctantly, afraid to see the monster painted clear as day on the back of her eye lids but when it was not there, her heartbeat slowed a bit.

Opening her eyes again, the young woman straightened herself, moving to her feet. "Get up." she barked at her sleeping friends, stepping over them as she moved foreward. She would not waste time in a place that haunted her, she hoped if she ran fast enough she would leave the forgotten spirit behind but she knew that she could not run far enough to forget. Yet, she did it anyway, striding through doorways and stairwells until they were in the rose garden again.

Onwards they walked. She walked beside them, once she had slowed down to allow them to catch up, bright eyed and ready for the day ahead.  Her fingers twitched at the ace she held in her hand, eager to drive it through someones flesh. Her allies moved more cautiously than she did, eyes scanning the environment as they approached a grove of sickly sweetly coloured trees where clocks melted themselves sadly over the branches.

”Looks like a little bit of abstract--” Callixtus began as he approached one of the trees, but he stopped short. Cassia did not need warning why. Her gaze quickly found the shadows of tributes moving through the trees, one then two and then even more came. Bleeding through the treeline like a flood. An eager grin quickly filled her lips, as she stared at the tributes move towards them through blue tinted glasses.

"Finally..." Cassia grinned, turning her aim on the first body that caught her attention. "Some fun!"

Without a second more, Cassia pressed the card she held in her hands to her lips before with a flick of her wrist, she sent it tumbling towards the body of Atlas Lumiere.

It didn't take long after Callixtus dug his axe into the girl from ten that an unsettling feeling found itsway into his stomach. He felt the weapon cut deep into the skin and further to the bottom. It took even more strength to bring the axe back to his side, with each tug on the handle, his body took more steps back. Once it came out, his shoulders dropped from exhaustion. Callixtus wasn't made for war, he was a man made just to get by, to keep his head down and his eyes forward.

He was forced to go against his true self.

Words flew around, a few tributes, a girl from three and the one he had attacked hurt the boy from District Nine, he returned the favor. Rio had joined Cal. Two girls went for Anarchy, but they didn't make much progress to her. The other two boys, one he recognized as Ronnie and another to be a Lumiere, were the ones that made Callixtus Shim scream. He wasn't made to get hurt, not like this. Papercuts and scrapes, but not wounds from weapons.

”How about your friend kisses this instead? There's plenty to go around!” The jab was aimed to Rio, but Cal took the punishment with the boy’s weapon making skin rip off and blood begin to stain his light colored skin. Ronnie spoke, too, ”Excuse me, but do not touch my girls!” Ronnie’s weapon made more contact as it ripped down his back. This one made Callixtus scream the most, it felt worse than the past contact from the Lumiere.

He almost dropped his axe to carefully tend to his two wounds, but his body didn't allow it. Instead, his body remained silent. There were only so many breaths left, and he couldn't waste them.

He shook his head, swinging once more at the girl. If they were trying to take him, the most he could do was take her.


{Callixtus d5m attacks Ophelia, Eggplant Axe.}
aFWWVRWqaxe
Attack Number:
11193 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage
(Axe)

ACCURACY REROLL FOR DAY 2
axe
11179 -- Deep Gash on Right Bicep -- 8.0 Damage