just hangin' out {scissor sisters vs mutts}
Oct 28, 2017 14:13:13 GMT -5
Post by lance on Oct 28, 2017 14:13:13 GMT -5
[presto]
[/presto]They moved on that night (or day, she really couldn't tell at this point) leaving behind fields of wheat in search of what lay beyond. They'd had enough adventures in that area for one day indeed - between losing arguably their fiercest fighter in Samson and her missing her own chance to kill her only true rival in the arena by literally inches, she'd had enough of amber waves of grain to last a lifetime.
It didn't help that insult was added to injury when the freaking scarecrow thing had snatched Mariela's binoculars right out of her hands shorty after combat had disengaged.
Yeah, she'd had more than enough.
So they'd walked, back in the direction they'd originally came, agreement unspoken between each of them to put as much distance between the field and themselves as possible. It was only after the grain stalks were a mere blip on the horizon and the new moon had begun to set behind the clouds that they stopped. Plants were shared between them, perhaps the only silver lining about their excursion, Mariela's wounds were patched up properly by herself and Hayden, and aching bones and muscles felt relief for the first time in hours.
Samson's face glowed blue in the sky tonight, and her stomach churned unpleasantly. If there was going to be a death in their pact, she knew that she would have preferred the girl from Four to be first - for all of her skill, she'd always seemed one wrong word away from slaying Mariela in the name of her foreign god and sparking infighting amongst them - but to lose her so early, especially after the spoils of the wealth were in their possession...
That was unsettling.
Eventually, Samson faded forever into the night and a dark haired, angular faced boy took her place. Eyes widened as his district registered - District Nine - and a glance was shot Mariela's way, as much to gauge her reaction as out of concern.
The girl herself was proving to be hardier than she'd originally given credit, between following her into battle against Rhaegar and enduring against his counterattacks and Truus's knives alike. It was a beating not everyone could have survived, and yet she had not only survived but thrived in the process.
Add to that the fact that Rhaegar had likewise survived a blow that would have killed perhaps anyone else, and that made her own survival that much more impressive.
Sleep came fitfully that night, and when her watch came, she woke to find that the dark moon had sunk below the horizon and been replaced by a little slip of blue - a literal blue moon, carved into the shape of a crescent.
If anything, that only made her more uneasy, for while she had never been afraid of the dark, the same could not be said of ghosts - and blue at night was an eerie, ghostly color.
Hours passed. The blue moon reached its apex, and once again they set out.
The mood was quiet overall - she'd taken to leading the trek as of late, and Mariela and Hayden had each other to confide in. Not that she minded, really, for silence was only awkward when one made it so and she trusted Hayden to not stab her in the back out of nowhere - at least, not this early in the Games.
As such, it was her that spotted it first, an unfamiliar setup at the top of a gently sloping hill. Curiosity had overruled caution within, and she'd led the advance up the hill, though not before drawing her sword.
It was a decision she'd come to regret, for when she'd reached the summit, she'd gotten her first good look at the setup.
The air wasn't particularly cold that night - at least, no more than the previous day had been - but the site of the gallows sent a chill racing down her spine nevertheless.
She'd never seen one in person before - on the rare times she'd heard of executions back home, she'd always been told the Peacekeepers opted for killing by firing squad - but it didn't take a genius to figure out the purpose of the multiple nooses of rope dangling in the wind.
As the sight burned itself into her brain, a sudden gust buffeted her face, wailing in her ears even as her eyes scrunched to avoid the inevitable sting. One hand rose to steady the crown on her brow (for regardless of whether it was battle or gales, she was first and foremost the queen) while the other tightened the grip on her weapon-
-and something flashed past her eyes, still focused on the now-swaying nooses, and she stumbled back, even as the wind died-
-but the wailing didn't, and it was only then that she realized the danger.
"Look out!" A warning call, surely too late, even as she whipped around to meet whatever thing had stumbled across their presence - for this was no tribute, this most definitely was a thing.
It flashed again, closer this time, and she lashed out, swinging blindly at the intruder.
Die, motherfucker.
cynthia attacks banshee; sword
8dsgvm3Lsword
1197 -- Deep Gash on Forehead -- 9.0 damage + 1.0 blades
sword8dsgvm3Lsword
1197 -- Deep Gash on Forehead -- 9.0 damage + 1.0 blades
