final girl | 6th hunger games finale

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gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan
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final girl | 6th hunger games finale Oct 15, 2021 22:40:41 GMT -5

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Post by gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan on Oct 15, 2021 22:40:41 GMT -5

Number Five closes her eyes in the moments before I cave her in. She's kind for it.

I stagger to my knees, a groan of pain escaping my pressed lips despite all my protests. Fuck. Whoever this is better come on and get it over with already. I gotta finish up here in time to hit the infirmary and still make it back to the train station in time to catch Terra and tie her to the fucking tracks.

Breathing hurts. Not in the side-stitch from running way. Not even in the I'm fully hyperventilating way. No, it hurts. Like I'm not supposed to be doing it. Fuck.

"Fuck."

The girl begins to gurgle on her blood and I roll my eyes. Yeah, okay, I guess it could be a lot worse. I give her a thankful smile, smear some of the sputtering blood from her face. It feels dangerously close to being against the rules, allowing her this kindness. But there's something about killing her specifically that feels... wrong. I wanna flip the switch but then, I don't. It's probably because she's dying and like... can't really run away anymore, but I really think we're having a bonding experience or something. I dunno. I just wonder sometimes, you know? And then I see the exact moment when, like a light, she's switched off. It's subtle enough to miss if you aren't paying attention. But it's something you can see, the sudden stop of a previously rising and falling chest, the dilation of the pupils, the slack of the jaw. It could be much worse.

I come to an uneasy stand, resting my weight on my axe.

"Alright," I sigh to the camera on my left shoulder with a sniff, "Let's go finish this shit."

I whistle while I work my way to the top of the train, wind blowing through my hair and whistling past my ears. It feels nice up here. Deep breath and a wince to accompany it- I can practically taste the victory and yet it still seems miles and miles away as the last of them climbs up to greet me. Oh, of fucking course it's this bitch. Listen. I'm not gun shy. I've fought worse and lived, and that was just a normal Tuesday.

However.

Refusing to acknowledge that this girl is crazy would be a lapse in my own judgement. I mean, right? I recognize that, okay yes, I am wearing a tulle cape and I've now killed a handful of people and I have been told that I'm a bit too chipper than most people would be in situations like these, so I get that this is a real pot/kettle situation but still! Look at her. I might be ruthless but this bitch's stare is... vacant. Hungry.

Familiar.

I sigh.

"Blah blah, long speech, famous last words," I roll my eyes and then lock them onto her an instant later.

I start to say 'may the best woman win,' but, I'm afraid it might actually happen, so I force myself not to hold my breath even though it feels like fucking fire at this point and I smile at her. She looks like she's about as far gone as me. Maybe even further. Sick, twisted world we live in, I know, but that brings me enough relief that I almost sigh with it. As much of a fuckin machine as a bad bitch can be, she's still human. There's still some soft bits she's got pickling in jars somewhere in there. That means she's killable, and that's all I need to gather up every bit of courage and strength I can muster before I charge.

"Aw, shit."

[delia attacks juno]
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[miss]

axe

Last Edit: Oct 15, 2021 22:41:28 GMT -5 by gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

🌱 kaitlin.
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final girl | 6th hunger games finale Oct 16, 2021 0:16:55 GMT -5

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Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Oct 16, 2021 0:16:55 GMT -5

Hawthorn Clarke refuses to die slowly and for that, I clear my head of all doubts. It's the same sidestepping of compromise that I have been shoving down my mother's throat for my entire life, this refusal. It's that simmering anger, the burning cold of a grudge. Whatever the world wants to fucking say, he needs it to know that he will never back down.

Never ever.

I turn my back on him, leave him to die his slow death. I gave him all else that I can give him, the least I can leave him with is his stubborn will to survive, his stubborn will to continue being seen.

You may call it kindness.

I call it kinship.

A spade's a spade, I suppose.

Everything aches I realize quickly, and there's blood streaming down the left side of my head pooling along my collarbone, hot and sticky and mucked through with dust and dirt. I lift my left hand again, and curiously press my hand against the skin there, feel soft where cartilage should be. It makes me sick, this human shell, this weak thing I've been tasked with. I drop my hands, feel them clench at my sides and it's—rage. Quiet, simmering rage. Half moons in palms, a tremor in my spine. I have never resented my mother for trying to make me small more than I have in this moment.

So with each step, I recreate yourself.

To start: skin, sinew, bone.

The next: a walking wound.

Standing in front of Delia Blake: all gunpowder and metal. I'm tired of the world looking at me like a girl. I never asked for that, not once. I have never wanted less to be a person.

I want to be fucking unbearable.

Simmer down, I tell myself. Simmer down.

But this anger feels like home. Burning step after burning step, I force myself to come face to face with Girl Who Thinks She's God, consequences be damned. She unleashes her madness without hesitation, and I can't help but only be able to see how she is here for her audience, above all else. There's something in it that I can respect, I think, a sort of tenacity, a dedication, a belief in self that can only come from those who deserved to be watched. But in strange and uncomfortable ways, it reminds me of my mother. Everything a show.

She dives, and I side step.

Such hope.

Someone kinder would give up, but I'm willing to pretend I'm not bleeding out inside for the sake of this fight. Spitting out blood be damned. And I know this is the part where I'm supposed to say something, but all I have to offer her are cruelties. Mouthful of rotten meat, mouthful of rotten dirt, that's all I have to offer. And this anger feels like home. Like home. And I want to walk right through the drywall of this body I've always called home, propane over an open flame, set fire to the insulation and the siding. I want to take the girl I was and scatter her like ashes.

"No one to say goodbye to?" I say, eyebrows arched. Girl Who Wants To Know Everything, consequences be damned. We make quite a pair, Delia Blake and I. I quirk my mouth, half-smile around all the blood. "That's okay, me neither."

[ juno attacks delia ]

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8.5

axe

Last Edit: Oct 16, 2021 0:17:13 GMT -5 by 🌱 kaitlin.

what are men to rocks and mountains?

a haunted house.

gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan
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final girl | 6th hunger games finale Oct 16, 2021 0:42:13 GMT -5

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Post by gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan on Oct 16, 2021 0:42:13 GMT -5

I convince myself that my sudden inability to breathe is a good thing. It hurts too much to do that anyway, I think, desperate to cough up the axe buried in my chest so I can inhale again. I choke on spit and venom, rage-tinged rid sights set on her as I wave in and out of consciousness and existence. I play the part of corpse 23 for a minute, drop to the top of the speeding train car in a lifeless heap. I still haven't breathed, and I don't know if I could by now or if I'm just too committed to the part or too afraid of being caught. Took that page from Corpse Five- the moment I saw the confidence, her game was over. It hurts, but this was inevitable. I know her now. I know this girl. And this girl- this fucking crane-legged, dead-eyed beast knows she's an apex predator. She's perfect. There's no downfall, no weakness, no lapse in judgement. She's been carefully built to win, and nothing here is going to stop her from doing that.

So I let her.

I lie there, knowing this is it: this is my last shot. My final chance- I can't survive another hit like that. I am struggling right now to hold on to my heartbeat. It feels laborious, like I'm on manual and I have to make an effort to exist. It's extremely annoying. I let her win, because that's not what I'm here to do. People like me aren't winners, okay- it's harsh but it's true. And if I ever heard anyone else say it, I'd knock their teeth down their throat without thinking twice of it. But, honestly, for the first time ever, I don't want to be a winner. Because that's not my game, it's hers. I'm gonna just do what Cordelia Blake does best:

Survive.

I wait until I have to take in air before I move. It might have been three seconds or an eternity for all I fuckin' know. I don't have time to think about it. I just grab my axe while her back is turned and I'm swallowed by fear. No time. No time. No time. Go. Grab. I feel the hilt in my hands more than I see it. I think I was looking behind me to make sure she hasn't realized that the cheering crowd isn't for her yet, or maybe I was trying to make sure I don't roll off the top of the train as it rounds a curve. It's all little more than a blur as I pop up to my feet and burst forward. All or nothing.

Do I have anyone to say goodbye to?

(Is it worth it?)

My blade lands solidly somewhere in her ribs and the force of it is just enough to send her toppling over the edge.

(Yeah. Yeah, it is.)

[ delia attacks juno ]
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[ 9.0 ]

axe

Last Edit: Oct 22, 2021 12:17:09 GMT -5 by gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan
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final girl | 6th hunger games finale Oct 22, 2021 17:37:38 GMT -5

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Post by gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan on Oct 22, 2021 17:37:38 GMT -5

I can tell, even from the top of the rushing train, that everyone in the crowd is silent. I feel it, a thrum of my heart beating in my chest once, twice. I fall to my knees, face frozen in suspense as I wait for the train to clear where the beast's body will be. Come on, come on, come on. Let her be fucking dead, let this be finished. Please. Please. I'm so tired. Please. The train's caboose straightens out of the curve, and there she is. I think for a terrible moment that I see her stir, because it is somehow impossible, even now, to imagine the girl as a corpse, as anything other than the person who would have won this whole thing if my ass wasn't afraid to play dirty.

I might be dirty, but I'm fucking alive. And she isn't. I point at her and squeal with joy. My fist slams into the top of the train with glee.

"She's dead! Dead!" She’s dead. She’s dead. I keep staring at her in disbelief that it’s the truth. She’s dead!

I won.

"I win!"

I stand again- it takes some time to do, believe me, and I spread my arms out by my sides. The wind whips my tulle cape behind me and the crowd's cheers lift me up so high I could be flying. They're chanting my name now, over and over again: De-li-a! De-li-a!

I won. I actually did it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was pretty sure I had it from the start but... Holy shit. I won. I am no one's shadow anymore, I'm a sun. And I get to burn, and burn, and burn, and it's okay because it's my nature. I don't realize that I'm going to cry until it's far, far too late. My mascara runs down my face in streaks, smeared by the force of the wind. I won. Me. I was the best, undeniably. I killed the beast! I killed- I, I killed... I killed. Five? No- I killed six-

Humans.

Targets?

People.

Was it worth it?

My hands squeeze themselves into fists as I remember: I'm not finished yet. This was a battle won, not a war. I can't truly say I've won until I know what Terra Montague's fading pulse feels like as I squeeze it out of her throat. My head snaps up to her, a primal snarl of electric blue eyes, and wicked sharp steel. Let me make it perfectly clear for her, I think. My smile is as cruel as a bite, and I hold my thumb up to my throat and make a slicing motion before I let her break eye contact from me.

The train comes to a stop and I see the guards coming through the gates, three of em: armored and armed. Oh. They have plans of their own, it seems. I got places I gotta be, and they wanna try and stop me? Ha. Good luck trying. I duck inside the train car with a laugh, swinging through the sun roof by my hands. I fudge the landing but, to be fair, I am kind of dying at the moment. My knees give out and I topple over, right into a booth seat. But I quickly right myself as I feel the train beginning to slow to a stop. Game time, baby.

"Come out of the train car, Cordelia!"

"It's Delia!" I scream back. I hear the impact of someone coming aboard and I laugh.

"Come and get me, boys!"

The first one is easy enough, a jab to the ribs and an elbow to the nose. By the time the second one has time to react, I've smacked his gun out of his hands and planted my foot directly in the center of his chest. The third, however, learns quick, and fires a tranquilizer dart from across the car. Catches me right in the fuckin tit, too. I scoff in disapproval.

"Cheater."

Like calls to like. Gotta respect it, at the fiery least.

The effects are almost immediate: I feel groggy, and sleepy, and loopy. I think I hear air hissing somewhere in this distance, or chimes ringing, and then I’m at my grandma’s house during the summer and she’s teaching me how to roll quarters while the tea kettle boils. She smells like soap and flowery perfume and cigarettes, and she puts her hand on my head and I feel happy. I feel safe. I blink again and the third guard is closing in on me. I swing, lazily— much too wide, and he deflects it.

"Take me to her. Please. "

I collapse into his arms and he grunts with the weight of me.

"Can’t. You’re about to pass out."

"No I’m not!"

I totally am, though. I think I was five or six that night with my grandma. Her floorboards used to be so creaky and she made coffee before sunrise every day. and she liked to feed the hummingbirds and sit on her porch and listen to her wind chimes. She died that night. Right after I went to sleep. Mom was off on a bender and so no one found us for two days. I thought she was sleeping, but I was just a stupid kid then.

I guess I’m a still just a stupid kid now.

"I got her," the guard says into his radio. He’s right— I’m done. I can actively see the corners of my vision fading to black even as I stare into his eyes. The last thing I register before the darkness takes me is, again, the chanting of my name, over and over: De-li-a! De-li-a!

"I won," I whisper.

thank you!

Lalia, Sidney, Arx -
Thank you guys so much for running this games! I loved the creativity and the freedom you guys really gave us as writers this games, and for creating such a positive, friendly, inviting atmosphere for the tributes! The arena was sick, JJ was sick, you guys were always willing to lend a helping hand or a listening ear, you answered all of our questions and just UGH!!!!!!!! You guys were amazing, and it was an honor to participate in your games.

Kaitlin -
Finale partners for life, yeah? I love you so much, and I love Juno so much, (even if she genuinely terrifies me,) and I couldn't have asked for a better finale. Thank you for choosing me every day, thank you for everything you do, other gay things u know whateva thanks 4 kissin me and stuff

Lyss -
Our fight was so much fun to write! I loved getting to read Wynn's story, and thank you so much for allowing Delia and I to be a part of it! I'm so happy you came back when you did, because these games wouldn't have been the same without her!

Aya, Kay, Tristen, Jess, Kaplan, Celestials -
Best games EVER!!!!!!!! I loved literally every one of your characters, and promise to uphold their iconicness to the best of my ability for as long as Delia shall live (so like until probably like the 50's but that's still a long time okay give a girl a break)

Everyone who supported me - u know who u are. i love u. shampoo for my real friends, real poo for my sham friends.

okay we out.

- end -