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birds, planes, us, them | {team titans v suicide squad}
Nov 7, 2021 14:19:37 GMT -5
Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Nov 7, 2021 14:19:37 GMT -5
When she woke, she didn't do it fully. That's the best way she could describe it: like the core was awake but the outside was still sleeping, still dormant. Sounds somehow sounded far away and echoed in overlapping, overstimulating waves that forced her eyes to squeeze shut and her fingers to dig into the already existing crescent-shaped wounds in her palms and her shoulders to tense and her teeth to clench and then just when she thought it was so much she might explode-
Because she wasn't awake. Not fully, not really. This was all a bad dream, and she somehow knew that the goal of this place was to kill her, and that she wouldn't wake up until she died. You can't die in your dreams. Did you know? Either you find a way to go on living in your dream or you wake yourself up to avoid the inevitable. She wanted to be awake again. Even if it might mean-
She blinked. Gavin was saying something again. He always tried to say something nice. Something to make her feel better. He looked sad, but strong. Not for himself, for her. She knew that look. She smiled, except she didn't smile. She just thought of smiling from the core and the outside didn't bother following her command. She blinked again instead.
She eyed the fire while the others all converged elsewhere, no doubt talking about how worried they were about her, but she wasn't sure. She couldn't hear them over the crackle of the flames and the scratching sound coming from within her bag. She made no move to alert the others, curiosity winning out rather quickly as she pulled the bag up onto her lap and opened it. After searching only a moment she found the source: the egg she'd picked up back on the first day. She'd planned on using it for food when she got hungry enough, but-
The egg's shell cracked beautifully down the center and then, almost cartoonishly, a long and slender neck extended and a tiny pair of dull gray eyes blinked at the nothingness. A miniature dinosaur. A brontosaurus no bigger than the size of her palm and, judging from the color and the blank stare, a blind one. She smiled once, briefly, and tucked it into her outer shirt. It shuffled a moment before poking its little head out of the opening, closing its eyes, and falling asleep.
Then the walkies began to ring. It took her a moment to recognize the screams- her mother's, Carly's, but it was the third that took her longest to place. Another girl's, younger than her mother's but lower than Carly's- more of a chest scream than a throat one. After a moment, she realized it was her own. From that night. She took in a breath through the nose, sat the walkie down on the ground, covered it with a pillow, and walked over to her bag. A brief moment of tension, and then it was gone. No room. Too much grief already, maybe.
The tiny dinosaur was practically weightless from its resting place in her overshirt. She had to be careful not to smash him.
The wind swept the dirt into little clouds that stung her knees and left them all covered in a perpetual sheen of dust. She had long since given up trying to groom herself of it, and now that the sun was starting to rise again and she was starting to sweat, she had smears of dirt along her arms and legs and face, already suffering for yesterday's mistakes with the inherent knowledge that she'd make more today.
Deep breath in.
She wondered if today would be the day her friends finally let her die.
She looked back at them, at Cecily's knowing gaze growing more and more unsteady by the moment, at Sasha's eyes focusing much lower on the world than they had twelve hours ago, at Gavin's tears getting closer and closer to spilling over each time he had to blink them away. They were tired, too.
Burden.
Objectively, not emotionally. She was a burden.
And she heard the others. The careers and- oh. They had the boy from Ten she and Cecily ran into after the bloodbath. At first she thought they were holding him hostage but then she saw the way they all walked with their backs to him, the weapon in his hands, and the lack of restraints. Either they thought of him with such little respect that they forgot he was capable of killing them too, or they were working together.
She told herself to wave, but her body didn't listen. Maybe it was broken. Maybe her mind was the broken thing. Maybe her body knew instantly what her brain could not comprehend: this was the enemy. Ten or not. There was not District to be from here. There was the arena and inside it, everyone was delegated to two types of people: them, or us. If he was with them, he couldn't be an us.
And if she was truly as cruel as she needed to be in order to survive, she would've taken the first swing, but she couldn't. Because she wasn't. And he was with them but once he hadn't been. Even as they advanced, hunters claiming their next meals, she knew she couldn't do it. She wouldn't. Not when he could've killed her and didn't.
She opened the tar Gavin had shoved into her bag the night before and the familiar scent of decay crept across her. Her private training session with the burning dummies, the flaming spear crashing through the windshield of the people they fought yesterday- She'd heard the world would end by fire or storm and she thought now that maybe it was true.
A spark, a flame, and without saying a word, a declaration of war.
Silence.
Because she wasn't awake. Not fully, not really. This was all a bad dream, and she somehow knew that the goal of this place was to kill her, and that she wouldn't wake up until she died. You can't die in your dreams. Did you know? Either you find a way to go on living in your dream or you wake yourself up to avoid the inevitable. She wanted to be awake again. Even if it might mean-
She blinked. Gavin was saying something again. He always tried to say something nice. Something to make her feel better. He looked sad, but strong. Not for himself, for her. She knew that look. She smiled, except she didn't smile. She just thought of smiling from the core and the outside didn't bother following her command. She blinked again instead.
She eyed the fire while the others all converged elsewhere, no doubt talking about how worried they were about her, but she wasn't sure. She couldn't hear them over the crackle of the flames and the scratching sound coming from within her bag. She made no move to alert the others, curiosity winning out rather quickly as she pulled the bag up onto her lap and opened it. After searching only a moment she found the source: the egg she'd picked up back on the first day. She'd planned on using it for food when she got hungry enough, but-
The egg's shell cracked beautifully down the center and then, almost cartoonishly, a long and slender neck extended and a tiny pair of dull gray eyes blinked at the nothingness. A miniature dinosaur. A brontosaurus no bigger than the size of her palm and, judging from the color and the blank stare, a blind one. She smiled once, briefly, and tucked it into her outer shirt. It shuffled a moment before poking its little head out of the opening, closing its eyes, and falling asleep.
Then the walkies began to ring. It took her a moment to recognize the screams- her mother's, Carly's, but it was the third that took her longest to place. Another girl's, younger than her mother's but lower than Carly's- more of a chest scream than a throat one. After a moment, she realized it was her own. From that night. She took in a breath through the nose, sat the walkie down on the ground, covered it with a pillow, and walked over to her bag. A brief moment of tension, and then it was gone. No room. Too much grief already, maybe.
The tiny dinosaur was practically weightless from its resting place in her overshirt. She had to be careful not to smash him.
The wind swept the dirt into little clouds that stung her knees and left them all covered in a perpetual sheen of dust. She had long since given up trying to groom herself of it, and now that the sun was starting to rise again and she was starting to sweat, she had smears of dirt along her arms and legs and face, already suffering for yesterday's mistakes with the inherent knowledge that she'd make more today.
Deep breath in.
She wondered if today would be the day her friends finally let her die.
She looked back at them, at Cecily's knowing gaze growing more and more unsteady by the moment, at Sasha's eyes focusing much lower on the world than they had twelve hours ago, at Gavin's tears getting closer and closer to spilling over each time he had to blink them away. They were tired, too.
Burden.
Objectively, not emotionally. She was a burden.
And she heard the others. The careers and- oh. They had the boy from Ten she and Cecily ran into after the bloodbath. At first she thought they were holding him hostage but then she saw the way they all walked with their backs to him, the weapon in his hands, and the lack of restraints. Either they thought of him with such little respect that they forgot he was capable of killing them too, or they were working together.
She told herself to wave, but her body didn't listen. Maybe it was broken. Maybe her mind was the broken thing. Maybe her body knew instantly what her brain could not comprehend: this was the enemy. Ten or not. There was not District to be from here. There was the arena and inside it, everyone was delegated to two types of people: them, or us. If he was with them, he couldn't be an us.
And if she was truly as cruel as she needed to be in order to survive, she would've taken the first swing, but she couldn't. Because she wasn't. And he was with them but once he hadn't been. Even as they advanced, hunters claiming their next meals, she knew she couldn't do it. She wouldn't. Not when he could've killed her and didn't.
She opened the tar Gavin had shoved into her bag the night before and the familiar scent of decay crept across her. Her private training session with the burning dummies, the flaming spear crashing through the windshield of the people they fought yesterday- She'd heard the world would end by fire or storm and she thought now that maybe it was true.
A spark, a flame, and without saying a word, a declaration of war.
[ aneesa attacks nylon, javelin ]
3tWbgSjUs7javelin
[ 0 ]
[ aneesa uses tar ]
1-50
[ +8 ]
javelin
[ block - 0 ]
javelin·1-50·javelin3tWbgSjUs7javelin
[ 0 ]
[ aneesa uses tar ]
1-50
[ +8 ]
accuracy, day four
javelin
[ block - 0 ]
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