it's a lucky number... right? [h v. foh; day 2]

The night was glimmering with the light, joyful like aura that hugged each tree and whistled through the wind. It was breathtaking, really. It was gold, it was like a child’s playhouse. It was amazing to see that, in such deadly times, the world was still beautiful. That was how they trapped us into their little game. Making every little corner as magical and whimsical anything could ever be to make us think that we could be safe. The warm tune that lightly spun through the wind. Ding, ding.

ding, ding

The ding of a sponsorship found myself and it held a backpack, a canteen and a medkit. I had stuffed it all into my bag and got back on my feet to search.

The red pyjamas that lightly covered my body felt like they could be ripped off by a simple swipe of the wind. It was comforting. Nothing felt too heavy on my shoulders, and I felt free. Like every muscle and ache was able to breathe, unable to be clenched. However, the red garments would do me just fine for now. Besides, maybe sleep would be less horrid in the clothing.

{spoiler alert;
It didn’t help with shit.}

Waking up was easy. Calming my heartbeat down from a near heart attack was the challenge. There were tons of footsteps. Far ones, close ones, quiet ones and loud ones. It was like some sort of hallucination that was placed to make sure that I thought that being alone was not a choice. Of course, my heart led the charge out of my spot and placed me with Petunia. I was glad that she was there, that it was someone from home and not someone that would rip my face out immediately.

There’s something comforting knowing that someone wasn’t out to kill you.

Keeping my bag up and creeping slowly through the spot was the only pace I accepted. I didn’t want to suddenly become target practice in the wide open, after all. Being shot is not the goal for today. Maybe another day, though.

Soon enough Gabe popped up, but his arrival was cut short by Petunia’s knife meeting skin, and my axe following suit.

[ russian maniac ]

My blade hits the thigh of the boy from two, but it hardly leaves a scratch. "That's my friend." I choke out with a frown, holdin' my arm out as if it would save Kristian from whatever the bigger boy was about to do. Neither seems amused, though, and I'm forced out of the way by the blade of another aggressor hittin' hard across the front of my district partner's forehead.

"Kristian!" I yell out, realising what's happened before anybody else does, and my terrified eyes shift to the one who'd done it-- the boy from six-- like I'd carried out the act myself. "That's my friend!" I repeat, voice louder, hopin' that maybe they'll hear me and stop. The coyotes can't just win like this, I think. 

They don't listen. 

Kristian's body takes another hit from the man who I'd gone after, and through my defense-- as laughable as it may be-- I hardly notice when we're joined by another boy, similar to the likes of our own. 

Gavin? Gunter? Oh, Gabriel. I struggle to find his name, but we share a look, and it's all I need to know that he's good. I remind myself to thank him later before returnin' my attention back to the fight I'd done been neglectin' for longer than what's probably safe. 

"Leave him alone," the boy from six says in reference to his ally, and I can tell that he's confused and in pain. I notice then that the boy we'd been attackin' had gotten his hand cut clear off... my stomach lurches at the thought of what that must've felt like, but now's not the time to think of the coyotes as human. They're all out to get us, and my promise is to us first. 

I'll leave 'him' alone when you're good as gone, I find myself thinkin'. With more focus, I attack the beast again, trying not to think of how Scotchie was hurt by the coyotes in the same exact way.

ollie

Words breached from Dove with harshness intertwined, yet with the gentleness Ollie would swear the older Female could never get rid of. A question twirled from those words in acceptance of the communication, and without a demand for them to be left alone. Just slightly did the Blonde’s fingers loosen around Dove’s, though she remained clamped on to her hand nonetheless. A breath was held by the youngster, awaiting for a response to her Elder’s brief interrogation upon the boy she carved messages upon a sheltered wall with. Would his words lash back in return of a reply? Would his friend transfer the harsh verbiage to another physical altercation? Would nothing positive result from this friendly collision? The clenched air didn’t exhale her lungs until she discovered such.

Kindness twirled from Six’s response, in simple curiosity of his small companion’s condition. The smallest grin shriveled onto Ollie’s cheeks in response, enhanced from his mention of their recent memory of their scratched doodles. But the smirk was taken swiftly after, with Zeke’s declaration of leaving them be. Evidence of Zeke and Cesare’s strength had been sketched in their unfortunate gathering moments before. They had harshly tainted Dove’s scarlet exterior, but they proved their strength regardless…as well as Dove and Ollie’s downfall of lack there of. Perhaps trust would never be shared amongst them, but safety could still linger.

“Wait…” Ollie interjected their exit, with a slightly volumed yet still hushed voice. Eyes ventured back up to Dove in seek for her approval, and in a silent message that she wished this for both of their protection. Vision glanced back to the boys, shifted between both Zeke and Cess. “You guys could stay… Just for a little?” Is mentioned with a soft shrug, an understanding if they declined her offer. “There’s a lot of scary stuff out there. We could fight together… And split when there’s not as many bad things left?” Reasoning and a plan sprinkled upon her suggestion in hope that’ll convince them to accept. Surely Dove could protect her, but who would protect Dove? And what if her desire to protect the Blonde leaded to her demise? She’d do anything to prevent such.

- - -

Again unintentional destruction results from Ollie’s weapon strive. Her eyes widen in disbelief to her own actions. Arms shake in return to the disasters breaching, though her fingers don’t falter from around her weapon’s handle. A rough breath flutters past her lips in absorption of what’s occurring. And without approval, yet in no surprise, Dove steps between Ollie and their new opponent. A demand screams from Five’s tongue to not touch her tiny Blonde, which leaves the tiny Blonde wanting to cling to Dove’s back and scream orders as well. But she can’t… This is still, and never will be, the place to be weak.

A harsh strike derives from Dove’s weapon as well, which leaves pride to glow upon Ollie’s features. This should be no joyous occasion, yet she knows she must make it one in order to survive… And it is - until the consequences, that will always follow, collapses upon them in return.

The blade of their Rival swings for Dove’s precious skin, and a yelp from her indicates the aim’s success. Vision of the incident is hidden from the Youngster’s view , as Five keeps her back from the chaos of it all. But potential has radiated from a couple of Ollie’s own attempts to be vicious. Despite strength in numbers being added to their group, it isn’t enough. Eyes flicker back to Cess as he’s brutalized once more, but both him and Zeke are revenging such. Power is beside them, even within them, both; and though Dove possesses it as well, Ollie must to - to maintain all of her reminders of home intact. She can’t be weak.

Silence protrudes further from her, as she goes against Dove’s wishes and releases herself into the fight. The weapon, she’d never image herself ever even gracing a finger upon, whips into the air in determination. Of course her own survival is vital, but she couldn’t imagine surviving without her team. And with that fright of being alone in mind, strength kindles from her to protect what little she has remaining.