Drowning the whiskey [Seth onshot; Day 2]

Remorse for Leticia's death burns inside of me.

Affron's death feels like my fault.

Who else is going to be slain because of me? The curiosity runs rampant inside my head, threatening the life it belongs to. Will Marcus be upset when I find him and tell him what happened and who killed her?

My heart aches for her family, knowing that at any moment it could be any one of us district sevens that could be next but it had to be her right now. There was such a large number of us that surely, there would be a victor sooner or later. Maybe it'll be our year for once? All the years of our district dying off has given us no amount of hope, no victor of our own. However, it's only a matter of time and I plan on making it back home to personally apologize to Leticia's family for not doing more to have helped her like she helped me. She didn't have to die.

The everlasting white skies seem to disappate drawing me into a new land. I've yet to sleep though. I keep moving; keep searching. It was weird how after the fight, the hatchets seemed to melt into mini pools of wax. It must have been something the game makers did to keep things interesting for everyone. I wonder if they will always melt after a battle? I pull my bag to the front and reach inside to look at the remaining crayons I had orginally gotten. Stemming from a curious mind, I take out the silver like crayon labeled 'timberwolf' and look to the ground that is barely part of the previous world; a clean template.

"Alright. Lets see what happens now." Between my fingers, I grasp the weapon of choice. The tip touches the ground and slowly the timberwolf crayon leaves a trail. Large blades on either side at the top, chipped on one side of the blade for added realism. A teethered leather cord wrapping around the hilt of the handle. I color in the entire blade with the silver, leaving some parts of the blade to look like it was shining with the glint of the sun. The crayon tip is exhausted and the weapon on the ground starts to form.

An idea formultes as my mind is torn away from the developing weapon. A crazy idea that just might work in this surreal place. "Well... looking stupid for the good of the games." I pull out another crayon and just as I start to press it against my leg, a tinkering noise appears and down comes another downpour of admiration. "Cool."

The newer colors look tempting and the crayon I was about to use is placed back in the backpack for safe keeping and the sponsored crayons get a chance at life. Back and forth, I press the dandelion crayon against my right arm, coloring it heavily yellow until I am pleased with the outcome. Sure, the fancy looking spikes aren't exactly straight and they look a bit dull, but I'm going for asthetics. It looks cool. The same is done for my left arm with the burnt sienna crayon, but much more neater than before. Being right handed seems to make a difference as the spikes look clean and sharp and the outter layer drawn to perfection.

As the axe lays on the ground, fully formed, I take it in hand for a moment. The weight is ideal, a little heavy, but deadly - all the same. No sooner than I had drawn the arm guards, eager for safety seems to take over. I take two more crayons in hand, allowing for creativity to flow through my fingers and I take a seat on the ground in order to draw fern colored boots to cover my bare feet. A thick, deep green material already starts to form against my skin and the sudden covering feels skin tight but comfortable. Even though the boots on my wooden leg does hardly any good, I know that if I loose my limb, it would make it increasingly difficult to walk any more. To protect my left leg, I further the protection as well as my right.

Shin guards colored up to the knee of a denim color, almost like pants. Latches take over the back part and the front is given the same spiked design as the arm guards. Matching guards, but simply different colors. "I look like a fruit salad..."

With that, I stand and pull from my pouch the water jug that was filled with something other than just water. Some form of alcohol taints the liquid and as I take forth the first step to find the others, I take a giant swig and let the liquid pass through my lips. "Here's to you Leticia." One gulp down, my body burns from the inside out. A new feeling of energy ever so present now and with one more gulp from the bottle, liquid courage seems to drive me forward.

"That one was for Affron. I will make sure you two will not die without a purpose. Wish me luck." The pouch has become my friend, sending me off into a world of shifted gazes and awkward gaits.

c28039- Seth