i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL]

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They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 2, 2017 23:22:08 GMT -5

Quote

Post by * on Mar 2, 2017 23:22:08 GMT -5

Endless amounts of white wash out the horizon. The further I go the more my stomach turns with each prickling jab of fear. Hair stands on my neck as the creatures swim about in the bleached out air. My heart yearns for Affron to show up sometime soon, to come running up to me as if what I saw in the sky was nothing but a joke. But, he's dead. His life taken away from me and from Sage and Marcus, wherever they are. Do they think it's my fault? Does Marcus and Sage blame me...

"Damn you, Affron. I thought you were right behind me. I thought you were going to make it out. Last I saw, no one seemed to notice you. No one seemed to take any care to you being in their world. It was just me that they were going after." Anger boils inside of me, my lips tense up and my fists ball up into a tight, blood draining grip. "Affron, you ass. You know Sage is going to blame me."

A noise somewhere off in the distance alerts me to danger. My heart wanting to see the face of someone I had known for maybe a year, but someone who fate brought into my life. A wisp of air tickles the back of my neck as the trio starts to appear out of nowhere and their numbers are daunting. Three against one wasn't exactly how I pictured that I'd go out, but I steadily reach into the makeshift backpack I drew and withdrew two of the woodsmen's pals and pointed then directly to the trio. My head no longer cooperating with my heart. Just launch it. Scare them away. Take whatever measures you have to. Marcus is still alive. Sage is too. Find them at all costs.

The trio is joined by two more and something tickles my senses. To be outnumbered among the five would have to be played out in the best way imaginable. Two ways could play out, but in the end, pain will be felt by all.

"I'm warning you. If you come any closer..." My voice is without a quiver, but instead provides a definite meaning. I glance to the duo and then to the trio. Their menacing stances triggers my memories of the blood bath. That one girl, decked out in colorful armor, attacked me first. She took advantage of my leg and knocked me off guard. The other one, part of the duo, she did the same thing. Only, was it mere accidents in the rush of things? I sustained no permanent injuries from them. However, the others look deadly. As I grip my hatchets, I flicker a demanding stare to them all and jerk the hatchet to catch their attention. I only mean to scare them at this point because I can feel my fingers shaking. My heart palpitations are causing my mind to drift off. My mouth has become a cotton gin.

"Now... stay back if you know what's good for you." I'm eager to get away, but I will stand my ground until my final breath. I can only hope that Marcus is fairing just as well.

c28039- Seth

table by onyx

[Seth ~~tries to scare off~~ attacks [LUCAS] with a throwing hatchet]
VwnNUeMithrowing axe

(10158 -- Bruised Head -- 3.5 damage)

[BONK!]

throwing axe

Last Edit: Mar 2, 2017 23:38:09 GMT -5 by *

Sleepy Fluttershy
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last seen Mar 30, 2022 16:20:24 GMT -5

«Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm». (Winston Churchill)

i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 3, 2017 13:26:40 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sleepy Fluttershy on Mar 3, 2017 13:26:40 GMT -5

Leticia Wheeler

I don't know if I am walking or dreaming about walking. The thing that surrounds me looks like a giant plain, but it is all white, with strange creatures flying and running around in the distance. No matter how far we go, it seems to never come to an end. Yesterday, after fighting, drawing and getting as far away from the room where the boy from district eight was killed, I ripped a strange picture off a wall (don't even remember what was in it, because I don't care about pictures and the whole art thing is a damn waste of time and money. It is only meant for those who can't live without it and have a real talent or those who have tons of gold and food and don't have to care about them. Well, maybe I have a soft spot for art in my heart, but not now, when my leg hurts and about forty tributes want to kill me). What was I thinking about a few seconds ago? My mind wanders from one thing to another and I can't even concentrate properly in this white place. The colour almost makes me vomit already...

I glance at my walking stick and remember that I was trying to recall where and when I made it. It is important to always keep the events of every single day in order inside my head, because if I allow myself to stop thinking, I may turn into an insane lunatic. Where was I? Yes, I ripped a picture off the wall, broke the frame into pieces and used a bow tie to tie them to my leg and make an improvised splint for my poor broken bones. After that, I destroyed another picture's frame and made myself a walking stick. If I have to part with Riven one day, I will need something to hold on to instead of her shoulder. Besides, her arm is injured and I don't want to make it difficult for her to endure the pain.

Suddenly I notice a few figures in the distance. They are approaching us slowly and at first it seems that they are very far from the place where we are. Maybe there is still time to run. But apparently, the whole place seems bigger than it really is, or is it just my twisted imagination? Anyway, they are really close now and I can see their faces. Three of them are people I don't really know... Wait, I think there is the guy I tried to kick in the Bloodbath to make him get out of my way. He shouldn't be mad at me, though, because I missed his face by inches anyway. His name is Lucas... Just like my brother's. There is another person standing not far from those three. I think it is Seth, my district partner. And I also think he is close to Marcus. I saw them talking a couple of times and got an impression that they are friends. Anyway, he is someone I would never attack, even though he kissed me in that spin the bottle game. But I have no idea if he will act friendly or not.

I am still thinking, whether it would be wiser to run in the opposite direction right away and drag my ally with me or just stand and watch, when I hear Seth saying something to the trio and throwing a hatchet at one of them. Damn. Is he in trouble? I don't know if those three are allies or not, but either way he will not be in the best position if they all decide to get into a fight with him. I make a limp in his direction, turn my face to Riven and say:

"You may not want to join me in this, but I have to help my district partner. You can just watch... if you want."

A few more limps and I am standing next to Seth, watching the three tributes.

"Greetings, mate."

I am not usually that friendly and that is not something anyone could hear from me every day, but I am just so glad to finally see a familiar face in a shower of the stranger's figures, grins and fists.

I look at the three approaching tributes one more time. They don't look friendly and are probably angry with Seth because of the hatchet. Time to take action.

"Stay away from my district partner if you don't want any trouble."

[attacks Lucas with axe]

3_xV_I73axe

11050 -- Shallow Cut on Right Bicep -- 3.5 damage
(Axe)

THIS IS MY FIGHT SONG...

Table by the amazing and wonderful Solo:)))

axe

Last Edit: May 18, 2017 12:56:55 GMT -5 by Sleepy Fluttershy

(graphics by Kaplan)

☆GABRIELLE☆

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i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 3, 2017 14:47:40 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Mar 3, 2017 14:47:40 GMT -5

It's magic. It has to be.

I stare down at the sword and hip flask wondering how it can even be possible, how it can even be real. I am pretty sure that it is magic, like you hear about in stories. My mother would tell me that magic was a childish concept; something to keep the nightmares out and the monsters at bay.

I believed her, I became a non-believer.

But by Ripred, this is real. I don't know how and honestly, I'm not sure I care—I've got supplies, now. I've got the means to survive. But as my eyes drift to the body which has seen in dusk, I realise that I am one of the lucky few. Alive and well, and not only that, alive and kicking.

The darkness sweeps in and takes Lorenzo Ruined before I get the chance to tell him goodbye. I told him I would stay, and that was a promise. A devil on my shoulder—his voice, his words to keep me company now that the ghosts are gone.

He has a place now. Is he still a reject?

No, I figure. He has a place and places are what keep people safe. Safety is settling down and shedding the skin your skin of insecurity; guardian angels flocking to rescue you from your own past. It's about feeling something under your feet—strong foundations to protect a place, your place.

I smile as the day draws to an end. The stars are replaced by creatures and as I lay me down to sleep, I stare up. Hypnotised by fluid movements of rays and jellyfish, lost in the memory of a missing starfish who proved that childhood is far too real to be a figment of anyone's imagination.

I count the blue and yellow fish which fly around in circles. One, two, three, four, five—it's definitely later than my bedtime—and a half, and three quarters—black.

Music billows through the arena; it's not a lullaby. It's light and it's daytime. Heavy piano keys produce a familiar tune that is more of a foe than a friend. And with it, comes the ghosts who will haunt the arena day after day until they find their solace, wherever it is.

I gave Lorenzo his; he was there, in front of me. I had to.

Anton's face weaves itself between the creatures and I take a sharp breath in but quickly let it go again. Grief is a bad thing; it is the price paid by those who get too close.

Lucas has regained his composure and has collected the pieces of his old self and pieced back together in the nighttime. Still broken, but a little less so than before. We stay close with one of the girls from Eight as we pack up, lift off and kiss our resting places goodbye.

Mum said that there's nothing like the feeling of sleeping in your own bed and she was right. The Capitol's beds were nice, sleeping on the ground is not—but nothing really compares the feeling of a tatty old cover between your toes and the smell of home flooding your senses.

But the arena has made me feel well rested, that I can tell. And that I am grateful for too.

I know it's going to be a big day. It's one of those feelings that you can feel in the fibres of your being, the marrow of your bones. It's like fire, like sparks that surge from finger to finger, toe to toe. Perhaps this feeling is one of magic too.

Black sword in hand, we go the only direction we know is right. Forwards. Mum used to say that no one should ever venture into the unknown—but I don't think anyone is really fearful of the unknown. People are just scared of forgetting what they do know.

But as we enter the unknown, we are faced with faces we remember. Shadows become figures and figures become clearer and clearer until I squint, and I can make them out. It's Riven and her friends.

She painted my face—she gave me wings so I could fly.

Her friend is corrosive, protecting the one she holds close to her heart, to her home.

"Stay away from my district partner if you don't want any trouble."

I have a feeling her acid tongue is going to melt the bridges we built in the training centre. I don't think she ever wanted to see me like this; someone with blood on their hands and someone who has a job of being the grim reaper.

I'm a child, but I don't have to be childish.

But children are troublemakers. It's just what we do. We've got our own kind of magic.

"Well-behaved children don't make history." I say, a sense of urgency coming across through my words. I think it's Lorenzo Ruined's toxicity sinking into my bloodstream.

Mum would hate me for fighting; but I have to use myself as my own weapon. But she's dead and I'm alive—that's enough proof to convince me I'm doing the right thing.
table by dars

W Y L L A • L Y S A N D E R

{ wylla attacks seth; sword }

Mymk0PhZsword

{ 1116 -- Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage }

sword

Last Edit: Mar 3, 2017 14:51:05 GMT -5 by d4 tati pelotte [azalea]

lance
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i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 3, 2017 15:01:36 GMT -5

Quote

Post by lance on Mar 3, 2017 15:01:36 GMT -5

l u c a s o ' h a r a

The rumors, it turned out, were true: sleep was indeed one of the best healers known to mankind.

He woke up that morning feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, all thoughts of Fallon and the interior of the mansion a distant memory on the edges of his conscious.

Even the memories of a bloodied Lorenzo, speaking barely coherent words about the demise of him and Anton - whose death had arguably affected him more than Lorenzo himself - were fading, dissipating into the past as he looked forward to the ever brief future that awaited.

And as they packed up their belongings and gradually made their way away from the bizarre mansion and the equally strange rose garden, his mind briefly drifted to the night on the rooftop that had solidified their standing as brothers and sisters in arms, if only for a short while.

Two of them were dead now, their bodies cold and their souls departed.

But there were still two that numbered among those that he trusted as allies for the time being - the ever diligent Wylla, trudging alongside him with a strength and an intellect uncommon for a girl her age, and the bubbly yet enigmatic Eva, a soul far gentler than he would have expected for a volunteer of these Games.

There they traveled, three unlikely souls from three different locations, each with their own goals and aspirations in mind.

It was a common tale that nevertheless had never grown boring or repetitive even though it was shown year after bloody year. A tale of mismatched sets of warriors united by bonds transcending place of origin, upbringing, and even blood in a couple of rare cases, each fighting to ensure that one amongst their number would be the last one standing.

Already, the odds of himself and his two unlikely companions had risen significantly in the last twenty four hours - from the deaths of Lethe Turner's daughter and Eva's own cousin to those of his now-deceased allies and one of his two district partners, other players of the Games were removed from the running.

And better yet, there was now no worries of Eva falling into her own internal crisis in the off chance of them running into someone she had blood connections with.

And besides the obvious questioning of loyalties that would take place in such an event, he figured that one internal crisis was enough for his group of companions in the days to come.

For seemingly hours, they traveled in virtual silence, each person locked in their own separate thoughts. For him, his thoughts had drifted to the faces that had appeared in the sky that evening.

Kyros Moreno, the tall, mysterious boy from a fading dynasty. Brooke Destin, daughter of the runner up of Cricket's own games and a memory from the cafeteria back in the training of light-hearted chatting about boys and a pure soul flooded his mind. Eden Turner, the victor's daughter, clearly lacking the skill and luck that had propelled her mother to victory so many years before. Lorenzo Ruined and Anton Ladetto, his former allies, victim to what could have only been Careers from the barely coherent deathbed statements of the former. Elvania Eckhart, twin to another tribute and elder sister to a third. Gentian Hope, Eva's cousin, but otherwise an unknown figure to him. Zanita, his district partner, the girl with the heart of a lioness. Lazarus Stroms, another sibling, and the boy he had shared a smoke with on the rooftop on one of the many nights he had ventured up there. And Affron Williams, one of the two from Twelve, the boy with a stone cold exterior that he could tell was a carefully constructed mask for something softer that lay beneath.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he barely registered the unfamiliar masculine voice sounding from his right. He might have ignored it altogether if it hadn't been for the throwing axe.

BONK!

"Ow! Fuck!"

Pain, sharp and burning, erupted in his right temple. He stumbled, balance remaining steady despite his now-bare feet (he had tossed the heals in his bag once it had become clear that they were set for a lot of walking) and the unexpected blow to his cranium. One hand rose to his head almost as if by instinct, while the other tightened its grim on his warhammer.

A small thump sounded at his feet, and he looked down, eyes scrunched in pain, to find the bluest axe he had ever seen in his life lying at his feet.

Gradually, the pain ebbed, and the fact that he had just gotten attacked registered in his mind. His gaze traveled from the axe to its owner, a youthful, clearly nervous boy he recognized from Seven.

For a moment, he stared, taking in the boy in.

Then, he chuckled.

"That wasn't very kind of you," he quipped. "Attacking an innocent boy from Nine completely unprovoked? Rude."

His right hand, having dropped from his head as he had began speaking, joined the left in wrapping around the warhammer, and in one smooth motion he switched from a passive stance into one clearly more aggressive in nature. "Now, see, if I wanted to, I could probably brain you pretty easily with this hammer here." he continued, voice as light-hearted and even-toned as if he was commenting on the weather.

He paused, allowing the words to sink in before he continued. "But luckily for you, I try not to fight kids when I can help it. That'd just be cruel."

Movement from behind reached his ears, and his grin turned into a smirk.

"So instead, I guess you'll be fighting someone else."

And as Wylla lunged forward, sword flashing, his voice rose as he called out his next words.

"Say hello to my little friend!"

The words were no sooner out of his mouth before a sharp pain ignited in his right bicep. Stifling a yelp, he turned to find a dark-haired girl - Another Seven, he realized with a start - wielding an axe that was now colored in blood.

His blood.

"Stay away from my district partner if you don't want any trouble," she growled, and he couldn't help but admire her fearlessness.

Too bad that was going to get her killed.

He laughed, light and airy. "Darling, your district partner attacked us first, in case you didn't notice," he said, grinning. "What do you expect me to do? Simply roll over and let him kill me? Sorry, but no can do."

His grip tightened around his warhammer, and, still grinning, he advanced upon the girl.

"If I were you, my dear, I'd rethink my life choices."

[lucas o'hara attacks leticia wheeler with his warhammer]
Lip3v2J6spiked blunt
[14081 -- BROKEN RIGHT HAND -- 6.0 damage]

spiked blunt

Last Edit: Mar 3, 2017 15:22:27 GMT -5 by lance

credit to darsypoo uwu

credit to fireflyz!

credit to stare!

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i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 3, 2017 15:45:15 GMT -5

Quote

Post by solo on Mar 3, 2017 15:45:15 GMT -5

Faces in the sky, one after the other, blotting out stars like shadows blotting out the souls that were stolen away from the earth that day. Names flash across my mind. Eyes and noses and lips jumble together and I can't quite tell who's who anymore.

Anton Ladetto.

I knew his face. I'd seen it before, in the panic of the Bloodbath, I'd shoved him aside as my small hands reached for a crayon. My fingers slip inside my bag and wrap around the tiny stick of wax, squeezing like it's the one thing keeping me anchored to reality. In this very moment, I think it is.

Lazarus Stroms.

I didn't like him, not really anyway. But I knew him. I saw his face, heard his voice, focused on the way his hands moved and how he looked at his sister. He's gone, torn away from this reality and taken to another that I'm not sure even exists. But I have to believe it does. I have to. Otherwise my hope will be ripped away too.

Hope. Gentian Hope.

I know his name now, because it flashed alongside the others in the sky of the dead.

My hands quiver and my stomach twists violently in on itself. I dig my fingernails into my palms and try to keep myself together. I can hardly register the body next to me, my ally, limping with the help of her crude, handmade splint. My ghosts point and laugh and call me murderer without my permission. Small hands push them back, but all I can grasp at are wisps of smoke that slip through my fingers in seconds. They snicker and taunt and tell me to try again, try to make them disappear. But of course I can't. My ghosts will always be with me.

"You may not want to join me in this, but I have to help my district partner. You can just watch... if you want."

At first my brain refuses to wrap itself around the words hanging in the air. Something about a district partner. I look up, confused, and blurry vision focuses in on a tribute in the distance. I rub my eyes, but of course it doesn't help. Mama did always tell me I needed glasses.

I hurry after Leticia, and in a moment I realize it's one of the District Seven kids I'm looking at. I remember seeing him in the bloodbath, tripping him, I think, but there's no name attached to the face. Nameless. The boy from Seven. Wasn't that what Gentian was to me before I saw his name in the sky?

It isn't until a few moments later that I spot the other three tributes approaching us, and then another few moments before the realization hits me that one of them is Wylla. I almost didn't recognize her. She's cut her hair, or perhaps someone else has. It's short, cropped close to her head, looking more brown than the blond shade it was when she had it long. She doesn't look so young anymore. Still very much a child, but not quite so innocent. I wonder if perhaps she has blood on her hands too.

"Well-behaved children don't make history."

Her words are quick, urgent, like it's absolutely necessary she say them before any of the following events unfold. I try to sift through the meaning of her statement, but fear is settling in and I can't think about that right now.

The boy, the tall one, speaks next, and his words fade in and out of my mind. He calls Leticia darling and dear, but he holds a weapon in what might have once been gentle hands. He laughs like it's all a joke, but there's murder in his eyes. Is that what I like that? Is there a shadow behind the circles of blue-green, something that says watch out, she's a killer? I don't know. I don't think I want to know.

{Attacks Eva Hope || Glaive}

6IJXw7C1glaive

{Word Count: 646}

~RIVEN FOWLEY~

glaive

Last Edit: Mar 5, 2017 19:23:42 GMT -5 by solo

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i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 3, 2017 15:54:14 GMT -5

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Post by admin kay on Mar 3, 2017 15:54:14 GMT -5

When we settle down for the night, it's just the strange little girl and the stranger boy and me. It feels like a lifetime since we left the Capitol. We divide our items and work easily together, which surprises me. That is, until the anthem plays. We all watch, silently, and then we aren't as close, somehow. They've lost two people they care about in this arena. So, I give them some space.

I dream of Paige and Lily. They press crayons to every inch of my skin, covering me in a rainbow. In the morning, I wake up clutching the few crayons I have left. I kiss them for good luck and then scramble after Wylla and Lucas.

I knew this would happen, after watching Paige's and Lily's games. If you got close to other tributes, you ended up fighting more often. The spear is heavier than I would have guessed and all I really want to do is reach out, hold their hand, and tell them all it will be okay.

Then Riven smears my pretty armor. I sigh. "I guess this is what we all trained for, right?"

[ made by the all fabu rave ]

[Eva Hope attacks Leticia Wheeler with Middle Red Spear]

8DUyKH5wspear

[Stabbed in Eye -- 40 damage]

spear

Last Edit: Mar 3, 2017 15:55:34 GMT -5 by admin kay

credit gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan

credit [ retro gm ] angel lí ✨

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They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 4, 2017 21:00:34 GMT -5

Quote

Post by * on Mar 4, 2017 21:00:34 GMT -5

The figures keep swimming in the air as if it's water. This is the only time I'll ever be able to invent an inanimate object out of a crayon. The last time I'll see Marcus and Sage, I feel. The one time that I'll feel completely outnumbered because numbers don't lie. There are five opponents that I have to face and the only one that resembles safety is the one from my own home district. Even she, herself, could be out to get me. Whose to say that district partners never went against their own? It's happened before, plenty of times. Only, I kissed her.

And that was it.

The hatchet seemed to take my threat seriously but also literally as well as the blunt end of the handle seemed to attack the only guy in this area, whacking him on the head. A dead thud was heard as he snapped back to reality to realize I meant business. I never meant to harm him fully, and that whack on the head will only result in a bruise. No blood, no harm - right? Perhaps it'll even be a fair fight?

"Stay away from my district partner if you don't want any trouble." Leticia Wheeler comes to my side, despite her ally being someone I had doubts about. Maybe it was all a mistake afterall.

The threats do nothing to the onslaught of a verbal lashing toward me. "Well-behaved children don't make history."

"You've got to be kidding me." I chuckle, wondering why this child has such a harsh tongue. "I think you need a nap." I say to the hairless rat in front of me. My mind is reeling already to see that my district partner had went for an attacked the guy I already threw my hatchet at. I guess she isn't that bad. It's a shame that Marcus thinks of her as a bitch. She's hardly that. A sort of confidence boost is raising my hopes for this fight. It's even it is, and with those two as backup, I feel that we might have a fair bit of a chance.

I got to get in my backpack for another hatchet, completely off guard as the guy attacks Leticia out of nowhere and I swear I can hear her bone popping with the break. It's that sickening echo of solid turning into two that has my adrenaline seriously starting to pump through my veins. My mouth drops and my fingers quake at the last moment. Instead of a fair fight, something is instantly changed now. The entirety of the situation just became a bit more grave.

"Dude.. that was uncalled for? It was me that attacked first. I didn't think you - she was only defen-" And off went Leticia's ally to take on her own opponent. The one that was in full clad armor. The one who looked deadly beyond that graceful smile I'm sure she could produce. Wasn't she a Hope? She had several relatives not make it far in the games at all.

"It's three on three." I whisper under my breath. Taking one each would seem to be the most logical thing to do. "Out of my way Leticia, my turn." I taunt, exacting my revenge on Lucas was needed for breaking her arm. He was going to feel it if It was the last thing I ever did, but as my sights were set upon him, she took a chance. She ditched my the third's battle for ours.

"I guess this is what we all trained for, right?" I turn my head, halt my step. My eyes sink into the scene right in front of me as the white knight seemed to take to a jousting - using my district partner as a practice dummy.

"No!" And something inside of me snaps. Blood escapes down her shirt, and her enemies weapon seems to bleed the color already. How funny that you can't tell the difference in the two - did she suspect that her weapon would spill so much blood that she determinded the color before the act?

"What the fuck did you just do? WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU... LETICIA!" I've lost all control on my volume and the weapons in my hands act as my threat once again.

Breath in. Breath out. You have to stay strong, but for how long? She's bleeding out. She's in pain. She's dying and you are just frozen. You've seen enough games to know where this is going. Idiot! That freakin Idiot is all to blame. I tried to warn them, to tell them to stay away from me. I tried to end this before it began. They wouldn't listen! FUCK!

"Seth... Promise you'll keep Marcus Safe." Leticia's voice croaks out among the pain she's obviously in and despite the threat among us, I drop to my good knee to get closer to her words. "Tell him he is the best jerk I ever met... Please promise you'll find Mar..."

"I promise, Leticia; just stay with me. LETI-." A cannon.

My body turns frigid.

My fingers begin to shake.

"YOU WILL NOT LIVE PAST DAY THREE... EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU ARE DEAD." I turn to her ally. A harsh, cold stare that is mixed with the start of what would be tears. I don't hesitate to take off without another word. Their day will come soon enough. That's for sure.

To ensure my revenge, I can't do it alone. I need to keep my promise on a dying wish.
c28039- Seth

table by onyx

[Seth uses F/A on self]
[Seth Flees]

Last Edit: Mar 4, 2017 21:01:21 GMT -5 by *

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i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 6, 2017 15:25:55 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Mar 6, 2017 15:25:55 GMT -5

Motions, moments begin to slow. My gaze turns towards Eva Hope, and for a split second, she becomes savage. A spear in her hands, she fights venom with fire and wins. It takes less than a moment for her to gun down the brunette girl in front of us. The mood shifts, regret tying our words into the clouds.

No gold, silver or bronze—just said words that are a poison. There's girl in between two parties and we're speechless. I don't think any of us were expecting something so bitter so happen within such a short space of time. When my mother was dying, she was just that—dying.

She wasn't just dead. It was a process. Cruel and slow; a total shutdown of all processes, bodily functions, movements, speech, everything. It didn't happen overnight, it happened over a fortnight. It didn't happen in the blink of an eye, it happened on a blue moon. It was cold, deadly cold.

It was slow. Like Lorenzo Ruined's body who clung to life like it was his final chance, it was his final chance, but still, nothing would be able to save him from the impending doom. A cloud of darkness looming above, a black hole opening in your path. Leticia Wheeler was blind; closed eyes, cut off senses and so her defences fell.

That's vulnerability—I suppose that is how Eva Hope slayed in her in a second.

She lies alone in the silence that plummets from above. It crushes the hopes of her friends, her allies and they only have pitiful words to shoot like bullets. The boy stares, not even phased by the death of a girl who had no reason to die.

"You've got to be kidding me," he says, a glint in his eye of happiness, relief. "I think you need a nap." He says, tongue like a blade and it's coming my way.

"You too. Keep one eye open, little man."

He takes off immediately.

Oh, the irony, I think. Saying that I need a nap when he packs his things and moves on. Please—that is the work of a person with a brain power similar to that of lint. I hope he is the one who naps, because then, he could join his friend who has a spear in her eye.

One less person to care about, one less to get in my way, cross my path and make this ordeal even more difficult. He doesn't matter, I'm not attached and though he's a reject, he is not one of us. He is alone, slowly losing himself.

Sad, for his family I suppose. But he put himself here, he's only got himself to blame.

I sigh.

I guess this fiasco is over before it really began.
table by dars

W Y L L A • L Y S A N D E R

{ wylla flees the fight }
{ uses f/a on self for -3 }

Last Edit: Mar 8, 2017 11:07:19 GMT -5 by d4 tati pelotte [azalea]

lance Librarian 3,638 POSTS Pronouns: He/Him/His last seen Apr 25, 2024 4:56:49 GMT -5 gay and chaotic? call it gayos	i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 7, 2017 20:12:06 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by lance on Mar 7, 2017 20:12:06 GMT -5 l u c a s o ' h a r a filler flee bc no time to write out a post rn lolz [lucas o'hara flees the fight]
	credit to darsypoo uwu credit to fireflyz! credit to stare!

solo
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last seen Dec 14, 2018 21:57:15 GMT -5

i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 7, 2017 22:27:16 GMT -5

Quote

Post by solo on Mar 7, 2017 22:27:16 GMT -5

"I guess this is what we all trained for, right?"

It happens quickly. Quickly enough that I have to pause and blink and wonder, did it actually happen? Am I absolutely sure? I think everyone has doubts when a soul is torn away from the earth, especially when the action is performed by quick, precise hands, a look of fierceness in the eyes of the thief. The good ones come at night, when no one will see them. They sneak in and find whatever souls they wish to steal away, and sometimes, when morning comes around, we don't even realize they're gone. It's the bad ones people worry about. The ones who come in broad daylight with greedy hands and tear your loved ones away from your arms while you scream and cry and beg them,

Just this one, please, just spare this one.

I suppose Leticia isn't a loved one of mine. Actually, I'm certain of it. But, in this very moment, she is all I have in the world. I have already lost Lori and Pollux in the chaos of the Games. She is the one who has remained constant throughout all of this, the one I see standing firm when everything else is crumbling around me. But now she's falling apart too. And not slowly, not with small particles of her being floating away on the wind, not with soft whispers of good bye and good luck. She is torn apart before my very eyes, piece by piece, until ugly hands rip out her soul from within her and crush it between them.

I know, even before the event is complete, that this memory will be forever ingrained in my memory. Not tucked away in a little box, set up on a shelf with a nice label like everything else. This one will be painted vividly across the threshold of my mind, bright colors jarring against my vision, something I simply will never be able to ignore. The precise hands of a killer, the look of shock in her eyes, the color of a bloody sunset tainting my vision until it's all I can see.

I realize I've forgotten to breath. I've forgotten to listen, to understand, to comprehend. People are talking and I'm pretty sure the boy from Seven is shouting at my friend's killer. I suppose I should be shouting too. But I'm not. All I can do is stare in horror and try to stop my hands from shaking. Of course they won't. The weapon I clutch between my fingers slips a little, and I think I almost make the decision to drop it. But I don't. Despite quivering hands and a sickened stomach, I tighten my grip, close my eyes, take a shaky breath.

Run, you idiot. You need to run.

Isn't that what I told myself the minute I was dropped into this arena? It's all I've wanted to do since I got here. I told myself to run when the Bloodbath started. I told myself to run when I became a murderer. And now, I'm telling myself to run because I don't want to be the witness of a crime like this. But I am. I saw it, all of it, and I will remember it.

Move your feet.

I think the others are starting to run even before I do. Of course, the boy from Seven is gone the first chance he gets. He's angry, but he doesn't stay. All he does is spit threats and wave his hatchet and then he's gone.

I can almost hear Hendrick screaming at me to move my damn legs.

At first, I expect the alliance to stay, and probably to finish me of. I close my eyes and wait for something, anything, to cut through my pasty skin and stain the paper earth beneath me bright red. But it doesn't come. No blade, no cold metal piercing my chest. Nothing. I open my eyes to see the three of them disappearing one by one.

And then, I run.

{Word Count: 663}

{Riven Fowley flees the fight || Uses first aid}

~RIVEN FOWLEY~

pup
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i am not a legend [LR/S/WEL] Mar 8, 2017 18:31:34 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pup on Mar 8, 2017 18:31:34 GMT -5

I cannot let myself feel anymore. Emotions are a weakness, and now I recognize it.

The pang of grief that overwhelmed me when I saw Lily's bloody eye socket combined with Paige's dark red necked gave the first clues to me as I attempted to glue my paper-machet heart back together. Then when I saw Gentian's name hovering over me in the sky I finally knew the solution to my grief and pain and suffering.

I just need to stop feeling.

So as my spear pierced Leticia's eye I knew I could not flinch. I could not show what I felt. The horror I felt towards myself. I was no better than my enemies, so I must mimic them. Ronnie must have felt no remorse as he swung his arms in the bloodbath and through whatever fight he fought today. Neither did Atlas. I guess I need to become them if I want to survive.

I can feel my bloody spear turning into a puddle of liquid which I knew was bound to happen at some point.

I hear the others fleeing around me, from me maybe? I had ended the fight as quickly as it started with the boy and girl from seven charging at Lucas and the girl from ten slicing at my crayon made protection.

I begin drawing more, I must make sure that when Atlas and Ronnie come for me I am prepared. Taking out a bright yellow crayon, I sketch another weapon, a sword, on the ground. Hopefully I will be able to use it to pierce more than just Paige's neck and Lily's eye for their retribution.

[ made by the all fabu rave ]