{cinq en rose} speakers/sd/a+g

"You don't look too bad. Find your boyfriend again?"

Wylla was as blunt and to the point as usual, and he couldn't help but chuckle at her words. "Found him, yeah, and that was fun." He didn't elaborate further on that topic - she was twelve, after all, and even if she could guess at exactly what occurred between Helios Delacroix and himself, that was a conversation he didn't need to have.

So instead, he plowed right along, not allowing any chance for her to interrupt. "And then, after that was all said and done, I got my head covered by an indestructible piece of cloth and attacked by one of these things." Here, he raised his right arm, thrusting the strange ringing mutt that now occupied it into the spotlight. "So yeah, that was not fun."

"I lost a bit myself." Riven's voice sounded next, her soft voice speaking in stark contrast to Wylla's rough-edged tone. And though the humor behind the words was morbid - she was, after all, missing one of her legs - he still cracked a real, genuine grin in response, for morbid humor was almost as much a hobby of his as creating art and casual romance.

But then the weak smile faded from her face, and the lightheatedness in her tone followed suit. "Eva left," she spoke, a note of bitterness now lacing her tone. "I killed Gentian and she left," - and it took him a moment to comprehend the statement because Gentian Hope had fallen on the first day, and then suddenly it clicked as she continued - "And then...and then I...I killed Atlas, and Salome left."

So Izar had found a Career to latch herself onto, and Wylla and Eva and Riven had ran into them, an encounter that had evidently ended in the death of said Career.

Interesting.

"Seems nobody likes me these days," she said suddenly. "That's understandable though, nobody likes a killer."

It took three seconds for the words to sink through his skull into his brain, and another two for his reaction - a light, easy laugh - to emerge from his lips. Then, he squatted, shifting all of his weight to the balls of his feet, so that he was looking the girl from Ten almost directly in the eye.

"Nobody likes killers, eh?" he responded, words shaped more like a statement than a question. "If that was the case, wouldn't it have made sense for Wylla and I to leave Eva behind after her spear entered Leticia Wheeler's chest?" He smiled, not unkindly. "Because in that moment, she became a killer, right then and there."

His grin grew slightly wider. "But we didn't, for even though she was a killer, she was still Eva. Just like you still are Riven." One hand reached up, attempting to scratch the back of his head but encountering only helmet. "So you killed her cousin, yes. So what? Surely she realized that if she was ever going to leave this place alive that it was inevitable."

He wobbled slightly before regaining his balance. "And, you killed a Career as well,"
he continued. "That's not something that every lower district kid like you and me can claim to have done."

He wobbled again, and ultimately decided that squatting was futile. So instead, he took a different stance, plopping down onto his rear and tucking his legs in a cross formation. "Yes, you're a killer now, Riven, and nothing is ever going to change that." More words, spoken kindly and soothingly in what was perhaps the single most compassionate act he had ever partaken in. "But it isn't as bad as one makes it out to believe. Sure, I'm not one to talk yet," here he chuckled again, "but from what I've heard and seen, few kills that take place in this arena are meant out of malice or bloodlust. You killed to survive, Riven, and there's nothing wrong with that."
The sun dipped below the horizon, and the sky lit up in stars.

---

Rose petals fell from the sky, the mansion pitched and heaved, and yet he barely noticed.

Five faces had shown in the sky that night - Lumiere, a Four, two Sevens, - but it had been the last one, the glittering, stoic face of Helios Delacroix, that had affected him the most.

Helios is dead.

Not forty eight hours prior had they been locked in each others arms, lips locking and tears flowing and quiet words whispered to calm stuttering heartbeats.

And now his soul was as extinguished as the rest, leaving nothing but cold hard flesh in its place.

At least he's with his sister now, he thought.

Then, almost as an afterthought, though the girl in question was anything but, and Zanita too.

He knew from the moment he had stepped on the train that he had never supposed to have been the last one living. Not between Zanita and her strong, fiery soul that burned brighter than a sunset, not between Helios and a body that yearned for eternal sleep but a soul too innocent,
too caring to cause any harm to another.

He was the odd man out, the boy who loved drawing and fucking and little else, the boy who had
a fascination with death and had volunteered even while knowing with a one hundred perccent certainty that he would not be escaping with his life.

And now, he was the only one from his home that still drew breath within the arena.

It was never supposed to have been him.

And yet, it was.

The mansion lurched again, and then was still.

And then a knife appeared out of nowhere and embedded itself into Riven's vambrace.

His head snapped around to the source, a pretty girl whose name eluded him but whose face -
and district - did not. Cassiopeia's last remaining female district partner drew another knife from her arsenal, and from behind her he spotted a second figure, another girl-

And then a fist slammed into his face with enough force to coax out a cry of pain and surprise from within.

He stumbled back, one hand raising to the point of contact while the other fumbled for the hilt of his weapon.

The face of the last surviving male from Two - whose own name, unlike the crippled Hammerfell boy, also eluded him - stared back at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Slowly, gingerly, his other had dropped from his face and joined the first in wrapping around the pink hilt of his polearm.

Then, he grinned.

"You know, as much as I enjoy being fisted, I do believe I've had enough of that for one Games, thank you very much." The grin this time was unlike the kind smile he had given Riven the previous evening, instead taking on a more feral form this time.

He raised his weapon before continuing. "Trust me when I say I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I'm going to have to kindly ask you to fuck off now."

The boy might appear unthreatening without a weapon, but he was still a Career, which made him dangerous no matter what he was wielding.

Even fists could be deadly in the right hands, after all.

A third figure materialized from behind the pretty girl from Two and lunged forward. Dark hair flowed past a pale face, and the last living female from Four joined the fray.

Two Twos and a Four.

Such was the composition of their opposition that day. He didn't know the name of this particular girl from the fishing district - or any of them aside from Brooke, for that matter - but names were hardly the thing to worry about right now.

And two twos make a four. How quaint.

No, his mind was clearly focused on far more serious things at the moment.

She watched as she veered towards Riven, her lack of two usable legs causing her to lag behind himself and Wylla, and as she drew within striking range alarm bells went off within his head.

So, with a mind equally divided into one part adrenaline and one part sharp, cold fear, he found words leaving his throat and entering the air between him and the Four.

"I'd be careful around her if I were you, Four." His voice rang clear and strong,
projecting itself with an unusual steadiness for a boy attempting to attract the attention of a girl who could likely shank him in five seconds flat.

"You saw Lumiere's face up in the sky yesterday, didn't you?" he continued, adrenaline now flooding ice cold through his veins. "Well, that was her doing, you know. Stabbed him right through the chest - and that was after she lost her leg."

He was bluffing, of course - he hadn't seen Atlas's death with his own eyes, and neither Wylla nor Riven herself seemed willing to divulge any more information aside from the bare minimum.

But when the quiet girl had claimed that she had killed the last living representative from One with her own hands, he hadn't detected a sliver of lie in the statement.

His taunt seemed to have worked, for Four's silvery knife failed to land across anything important, instead barely grazing Riven's hip instead.

So, the adrenaline fueling his courage, he continued once more. "So, that being said, I'd stay away from her if I were-"

Then Riven's spear found Four's throat, and the unsolicited advice was rendered moot.

"-you." The final word died in his own throat as his brain struggled to comprehend just what had transpired.

The stoic pretty girl nearly broke her composure, and in her own form of desperation she lashed out at Riven with not her knives but her fists, creating just enough room for her to grab her fallen ally and flee.

More footsteps sounded, and he turned to find the lone male amongst the enemy rush from the field of battle as well, his own flight taking him in a completely different direction than the two girls.

From deep within, some part of his brain that had memorized the many battle tactics that had been shown on his television over the years screamed at him to chase the boy from Two down and end him while he was weaponless and alone.

But then his gaze shifted to Wylla, and then to Riven, both with their spear tips coated in blood.

And he knew.

Knew that the next time they parted ways, it would be for the last time as friends.

And surprisingly, that wasn't something he was ready for just yet.

So he lowered his polearm and turned away from the fleeing boy. A glint of silver caught his eye, and his gaze shifted to focus on the fallen girl's weapon.

A weapon that looked far too solid and metallic to have been created from a crayon.

Gingerly, he bent down, brushing fingers over the cool metal surface.

Yep. Definitely not crayon-made.

Fingers wrapped around the grip of the butterfly knife, and a grin slowly spread across his face.

He straightened back up, gaze turning towards the two girls that he still called allies.
"Well, that was eventful," he spoke aloud, tone light and airy as usual. "Where to next?"

A strange question to ask so soon after a kill, but not a surprising one.

After all, the day was young, and his spirits were up.