Extinction {89th Finale}

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Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 11, 2021 11:37:24 GMT -5

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Post by sbeeg on Dec 11, 2021 11:37:24 GMT -5

“...Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."
-William Shakespeare

Welcome to the finale, tributes! Many congratulations on making it thus far. This is it, the end of all things. You may have as long as you need within reason to wrap things up, but please be considerate of your fellow tributes and mindful of the site's schedule.

Tribute information:

Nixie Summers, D4F - 1 damage
Self-Defense
Blades

Whiskey Finch, D7M - 8.5 damage
Self-Defense
Strength

kap
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Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 11, 2021 14:08:45 GMT -5

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Post by kap on Dec 11, 2021 14:08:45 GMT -5

As the anthem plays, two things are confirmed for me. The first was Zane. That was the name of the boy from Nine. I'd killed Luya, Laurence, Cedric and Zane. The second is that what the sponsor sent me was definitely a hint. Whiskey was the only one left in this arena with me.

I stayed up that night, and it seems that so did Emmy. The little dinosaur was rustling in the pocket of my raincoat throughout most of the night. I refused to let my guard down knowing Whiskey was still around. So, I travelled through the night with my night vision goggles on that I'd taken from Laurence when I killed him. My machete was in my grasp as I traipsed through the arena. Morning started to come as I went.

Eventually, I ended up having returned to the part of the arena where all those stilted, rusted old buildings were. I noticed one building in particular stood out, and I knew what was happening. The bright lights coming from the tall, swaying building? They were there to draw us in, and I was going to take the bait. Might as well get this over with. Plus, Whiskey couldn't bring the jeep up there.

I climbed up the ladder of the building, although it did sketch me out a little bit. When I finally reached the top and went inside through the door that hung open, I saw what was all lit up. The colorful lights of consoles, monitors and buttons were all aglow. The colors reminded me of a bunch of lights that people would put up around the holidays, just in a very different form and a very different place.

I looked around the room, making sure that Whiskey hadn't gotten there before me. He hadn't. Good. I'd get the jump on him as soon as he reached this room. That was an advantage for me, and I'd gladly take it.

Reminding myself of those I'd already killed in this arena just built my confidence further. Four. Four tributes were dead because of me, and Whiskey was going to be the fifth. I was so certain of it, and now I just needed to make it a reality. It couldn't be that hard, right?

I heard the creak of the ladder below the building and felt the building start to sway. I couldn't be sure if it was the wind, or if it was Whiskey climbing up, but I'd find out soon. I took something out of my bag with my open hand, and held my machete in the other. When I saw a silhouette finally pass through the door, I spoke up.

"I think someone wanted to give me a hint that you were still alive last night before the anthem. Suppose they didn't want me to wait to know," I said, placing the bottle of whiskey I'd been sponsored on one of the computer consoles.

"We're here now, though," I told him. "We both knew that if it came down to just us, we'd have to do this, so," I continued "let's get started."

I made my move toward him, doing my best to keep an eye on whatever he might try to pull. When he was properly in my field of view and not just a silhouette, I prepared my machete for the first strike of the final fight.

{ table by rose }

[Nixie attacks Whiskey, machete]
hoO5ckX1MHsword
[1123 -- Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage + 1 blades]

sword

Last Edit: Dec 11, 2021 14:09:15 GMT -5 by kap

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Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 12, 2021 21:30:30 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Dec 12, 2021 21:30:30 GMT -5

He sits holding a shot glass that's begging to be full when the night finally comes, pointing it up to an artificial moon and watching it fracture and bend inside the glass as he twists bloody fingers back and forth, shaking grip threatening to crack and shatter the small glass at any moment. First one's on me when you get out. Play smart. Mackenzie Pryce had sent him the gift in tongue and cheek and an optimism that he can't do anything to match now, watching as the moon and the stars and the clouds bend inside the glass until they are nothing more than a sinister smile on the canvas, begging him to kill or be killed.

And kill he had, wearing a cloak of crimson and scarlet that had dried up against the permanent reminders both Abel O'Malley and Cecily Deerling had pressed to his skin, blades carving their final words into his skin before they left him to rot. There's no satisfaction in the way he watched them both final, in the lingering feeling of steel swiping through muscle that hangs heavy on his fingertips, but there is something else that brews there instead. Something terrible and something rotten and something he can't help but hate the taste of, even as a grin so hollow and heavy cracks softly on his face. It's a laugh in the face of his own demise, at the fact that he'd survived this far, at the fact that he is still here and twenty two others are not, not for the better but for everything worse.

It's almost hopeful, and that's his first mistake.

Because the sky finally splits and the clouds recoil from the void, leaving nothing but a black canvas for a heartbeat and a half before the sky betrays itself and the trumpets signal the end times yet again, holographic hue flickering into sight above him as he lowers the glass and trains his gaze upwards, feeling poison drip into the back of his throat. And he's begging to see something he shouldn't, to watch Nixie Summer's face light up the night sky and for that torn through and bloody shred of hope to be able to turn into a different beast altogether.

But he should have known better, a boy like him doesn't get his prayers answered.

Oh.

His stomach sinks into the void as the Anthem ends with the faces of two kids he'd never truly known, trumpets filtering out into static silence and quickly drowned in the soft lull of the arena itself, the shuffling of trees and the quiet breaths of the beast that has swallowed him whole sitting as a chorus to his own death. Nixie Summers is everything he is not, a polished mirror dipper in gold instead of crimson, throwing back at the world everything they want to see instead of pointing out the fractured veins. He can't blame a world like this for not wanting a boy like him to wear the crown, can't fault the figures that write their names in the heavens for snipping the strings they'd used to pull him to this point, he would have done the same. A Finch's curse is to always be present where you're not wanted, all snarl and slobber and explicit language waiting to tear apart the seams, an underdog with the rage and the bite to prove it.

But that's the thing about rage, it consumes like fire and dies just as quick, leaving nothing but embers to look back on and nothing but ash to breathe in. He couldn't ever hold a crown like they wanted, because he'd do nothing but try and get it to burn.

In both brains and blade he doesn't compare to his former ally, and it's as he's swallowed whole by the waves of pain that sit under the half-hearted application of his bandages that he feels his own life begin to fold back in on itself. His countdown comes in shallow breaths and fingers wrapped too tight around the hilt of a spear that cannot save him anymore, staring out into the trees and watching the shadows flicker and dance underneatht the cracks of moonlight that bleed through the trees. They call his name every so often, trapped in the whispers of the wind and the youthful silence left in place of the twenty two other tributes that had already fallen to blade and blood, and he doesn't have the heart or the fury to fire back all the things he should have could have said. Eventually at some point in the night he begins to see the shadows as every Finch too caught in the fire for their own good, pulling him back to where he'd started and where he'd always end up. He figures he'll be seeing Boone and everyone else sooner than he'd like. With his good eye, at least.

He doesn't sleep that night, They don't let him.

He's led to his final resting place by an arena that threatens to swallow him whole with every step, waves of wind sweeping across the plains of the landscape ahead of him and the chatter of the trees fading into the soft hum of the Research Outpost as he charts a path already laid out for him. He gulps as he looks up at the towering structure, leftover stabs of pain poking up through his muscles as he confirms his own fate with whoever is controlling all of this.

How empty, how hollow, how unfair. It's exactly what he should have expected. He missesthe rage he'd once called his own, torn and forgotten to the pain and the pills he'd had to swallow.

He knows she's there even before he kicks open the door, glint of steel fracturing and bending into a million pieces as he's swallowed by the electric hue of the computers and consoles, coating his skin in the final shreds of digital relevancy that he would ever experience.

Nixie Summers is a silhouette of the person he knew from just days ago, standing there clutching steel and wearing badges of blood with pride and honor with a bottle in her hands.

"I think someone wanted to give me a hint that you were still alive last night before the anthem."

She says it with such malice that he can't help but let a laugh escape from between his lips at the way they stare at one another afterwards, clutching their weapons so desperately even though both of their paths have already been charted. She wastes no time in making the latter known, darting from the shadows and carving her steel into his leg and he gasps as the same fire and pain erupts out from the newly formed wound, clutching the table nearest to him desperately as Nixie dances backwards until there is distance between them.

"Could have-" And the words catch at first on ragged breaths. "Could have at least offered me a shot first." He says, pulling the shot glass Mackenzie Pryce had sent to him out from his pocket and tossing it into the dead space between them. It shatters into the floor, a million glass bones caught in the electric light of the consoles as he shifts his gaze back towards Nixie, spear shaking in his grasp.

"You don't feel anything at all, right?" He asks a question he already knows the answer to, "For any of us, do you?"

[Attacks Nixie ; spear]

U6HeaWvjI2spear

[SC - 4.5]

spear

Last Edit: Dec 12, 2021 21:31:46 GMT -5 by pogue

kap
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Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 12, 2021 23:25:45 GMT -5

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Post by kap on Dec 12, 2021 23:25:45 GMT -5

Once I sliced open his leg, the shot glass that Whiskey tossed in front of him shattered on the floor between us. He told me I could have at least offered him a shot first. I supposed he wasn't wrong about that, but things were progressing in the way that they needed to. At least, they were going the way I needed them to go. There wasn't going to be any more waiting. No more taking our precious time. No. Just fighting, killing and eventually, for me, victory.

At least, that's what I was striving for, and I was damn near certain I was going to get it. I'd trained for this, and in my time in the arena, I'd killed and grown bloodthirsty. That thirst for killing and my hunger for victory were just working hand-in-hand now, and that combination seemed to be working out pretty well for me.

Whiskey didn't seem to think I cared about any of them. About any of my allies— rather, my friends, who had died in this arena.

"I cared about all of you, Wiz," I told him. "I cared about you, Tsara, Sinead and Abel. I just can't afford to anymore."

I was being truthful, too, even though I knew Whiskey Finch would never believe me. I doubted the rest of Panem would believe me at this point, either. I was a killer. Not only that, I was a proud killer. I didn't have any shame in what I'd done so far, and no shame in what I was trying to do now. Should it really matter what everyone else thought, though? I knew who I was. That was what mattered, right? No one else truly knew me. I didn't even think Marina was likely to truly know me at this point, either, anymore, and she was my sister.

Marina knew me better than anyone else ever had. She and I argued so much that we probably knew what got on one another's nerves better than anyone else. She and I also got along really well at times, too, which would explain why we knew how to make each other happy if we wanted to, too.

The only thing is, right now, I didn't know if I'd be making Marina happy that I was so close to winning, given what I had to do to get here. It's always possible that she was proud of me, but it was also possible that she was absolutely appalled at what I'd done to come so close to home.

I winced as Whiskey's blade cut my flesh, but my cut I'd made on him was still deeper than the one he'd made on me. I wasn't going to back down from one little cut. If he thought that, he had a lot more to learn.

Sure, I cared about Whiskey, but I also cared about myself, and I wanted to get home alive. That was one thing he was about to learn: when I was determined, it didn't matter who or what was in my way. I was going to get what I wanted.

{ table by rose }

[Nixie attacks Whiskey, machete]
YVzZcTQ51_sword
[1081 -- Severed Right Forearm at Elbow -- 9.5 damage + 1.0 blades]

sword

Last Edit: Dec 12, 2021 23:26:16 GMT -5 by kap

pogue
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Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 13, 2021 0:59:55 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Dec 13, 2021 0:59:55 GMT -5

He knows it's over as soon as he lunges forwards and Nixie Summers is already three steps ahead of him, dodging the tip of his blade and only leaving a hint of his own malice on her flesh, scarlet paper cut dotting the surface as he backs away. She retaliates with a ferocity that he can't keep up with, only managing to gasp and scream in pain as her sword carves itself into his flesh once more, opening up a new wound that cloaks itself in kerosene and lights itself ablaze. He stumbles backwards on shaking limbs, crashing into the wall behind him and feeling his own blood stain the surface, coughing up iron and rust as he lurches forwards and slams his spear to the ground, hardly managing to catch his balance.

"I cared about all of you, Wiz." And her lie hurts worse than any of the wounds that scatter over his form. He coughs on ragged breath and tastes arsenic, then rust, feeling his own sins drip down his throat at the mention of his former allies, at the way snake eyes stare daggers into Nixie's form. "I just can't afford to anymore."

"There it is." The words are spat out on both survival and instinct, carried on frayed strings of malice and poison just to die in the dead space that exists between them. He sizes Nixie Summers up in the same way he's always looked at any goliath back in Seven, desperately trying to point out the fractures and the cracks to hit 'em where it hurts, to watch them fracture and shatter and fall.

There's no cracks left to find, all he can see are those on his own flesh.

"Can't afford to anymore..." There's an echo of her words that dissolves into the static in the air as he rolls backwards on his heels, using the walls and tables around him as support. It's in the black spots that dance in his vision that he sees Tsara, and Sinead, and Glass and his Mother and his Father and every Finch that had ever been forced to follow a path long since bloodied and buried. He feels them drown in scarlet and slip through his fingertips, drops of blood from new wounds falling to the floor below.

Nixie Summers switches into what she has been trained to be on a moments notice, white-knuckled fingers curling around the hilt of her sword and reveling in the red that coats the steel. He stares for what feels like an eternity, so desperately wanting to run and so vividly knowing that he'd never be able to. And it's on the third or fourth heartbeat hammering through hollow chest when he feels something familiar bubble up from the trenches of his gut, all wrapped in venom and lace and destroying him from the inside out. He sees red inside of the Research outpost, feels it crawl through every frayed vein and pour out from the wounds that are riddled throughout his rag-tag body. He grinds his teeth and feels fangs split under the pressure, bites at the poison that sits on the edge of his tongue and thinks of everything he had to do to get to this point, watches it slip away as Nixie looks at him.

He's dying how he lived: fucking pissed and fighting it every step of the way. How familiar.

"Some of us don't have that luxury."

He shouldn't blame Nixie for being who she is, all product of her own lifestyle. He does anyways.

"I knew I was right about you-" He coughs through shaking breaths, a tear carving itself down his chin as he stares at her. There's a moment of understanding that catches itself between the words he spits, hardly there and gone just as quickly as it appears, choked down amongst the anger and the fury he's grown so attached to. "You Careers are all bite, no substance." He remembers sharing their backstories amongst one another when he blinks, chokes it back with the same malice that Nixie's carved into his flesh.

"I think the crown is gonna feel mighty hollow on that head of yours, Nix."

*Sever written as a DG bc severs are dumb

[Attacks Nixie ; spear]

h6s5|N6h8gspear

[Block]

[Accuracy]

spear

[DG -- 8]

spear·spear

Last Edit: Dec 13, 2021 1:02:22 GMT -5 by pogue

kap
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Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 13, 2021 19:58:15 GMT -5

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Post by kap on Dec 13, 2021 19:58:15 GMT -5

Whiskey thinks I'm lying, I can tell, and honestly, it doesn't feel good. I'd always hated when people labeled me as a liar. I've always tried to be an honest person, and when people call me out, thinking I'm lying when I've tried so hard to be truthful? That just fucking sucks.

He thinks I'm heartless, too. Sure, I can see why. All the killing: it makes me seem like some sort of wild animal that's hunting its prey with no remorse. No, I don't have remorse for the people I've killed, but I didn't know them. I wouldn't feel good about killing Whiskey after it was over. Well, at least, not entirely. The victory would feel nice. Killing someone I once called a friend wouldn't feel as good.

Yet, here I was, fighting him now without flinching as my blade kept driving into him. Maybe I was lying to myself, instead. Maybe I wouldn't care if I killed him, as long as I got what I wanted. I supposed there wasn't a real way for me to know until it happened, though. So, I'd keep trying to get to that point: the point where Whiskey Finch was dead.

The next few things he said, I tried to just brush off, until he said one thing in particular that made me think for a moment.

He knew he was right about me. Right about me, how, exactly? That I was a career? That I was trained to fight and kill? That I'd grown up being told that this was what I was supposed to do with my life? That I'd enjoy what I'd been trained and taught to do my entire life?

That I'd be willing to kill him when it came down to it? I mean, obviously he was willing to kill me, too, or he would've just laid down and died already, and that wasn't what had happened, was it?

I smirked.

"Right about me? Mind enlightening me on that one? I'd love to know what you're thinking." A brief moment of laughter comes from my chest. I'm unable to hold it back. The fact that he thinks he knows anything about me and who I am is amusing, and therefore, laughable.

My sister knows me better than anyone but myself, and there's no way some kid from Seven knows more about me than my own sister or myself does.

I've grown up with myself, after all.

He cuts into my flesh deeper this time. Is that his way of getting 'closer' to who I am inside? If so, it won't tell him shit.

{ table by rose }

[Nixie attacks Whiskey, machete]
wIUh8DG4fisword
[1178 -- Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5 damage]

sword

Last Edit: Dec 13, 2021 19:58:42 GMT -5 by kap

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Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 13, 2021 23:12:27 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Dec 13, 2021 23:12:27 GMT -5

He finds his footing in the space between the two of them, pulling back his spear and watching the tip point towards Nixie's neck, black spots dancing at the edge of his vision. Words fall on deaf ears, dissolving into nothing as Nixie brushes off his sentences. But snake bites add up, poison and venom building underneath the surface until she's forced to bite back.

"Right about me? Mind enlightening me on that one? I'd love to know what you're thinking."

He returns Nixie's laugh with one of his own, guttural and primal and filled with blood as it pours from the half-healed wound in his stomach. The point of his spear carves into the metal floor as he balances himself, cracking the same shit-eating grin he'd called his brand back in Seven. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?" He pokes the bear just to watch it roar. "I thought you were the smart one."

He roars against the sound of his own death, ignores the way a tear carves its path down his cheek as he looks forwards. "I think that you're full of shit." He coughs up blood, choking on his own sins. "I think that you never cared about any of us because you were never supposed to-"

Fingertips curl around the hilt of his spear, the last lifeline connecting him and the fading hope of making it out of here.

"-that you're a bloodthirsty, trained killer trying to convince herself that she cared." He stumbles on uneven ground, his words charging forward even though he can hardly stand anymore. "It's selfish, y'know-" He spits out, feeling rust and iron dribble off his lips, "-to lie to yourself like that." He just keeps going with it all, explicit language dancing on his tongue and threading itself in between the words. He sees red and feels nothing but blue, hopelessly stumbling forwards with the fury and the rage to prove it. Because that's always been his problem, too much to say and never knowing when to stop.

It's why two people are dead and dancing in his own shadow. It's why he's so close to joining them.

He swipes at her, desperate and bloody and so far gone and watches the steel cut into nothing but air, dissipating into the electric glow that swirls between them. Nixie finds her footing in the dead space that drapes itself over the fight and he follows suit, hardly managing to swing out with his spear as his opponent attempts to stumble backwards. It's a wave of red that spills from her arm as he throws himself backwards away from her, slamming himself into the wall and rolling to the side as she swipes back, teeth gnashing into one another as her sword merely grazes his skin.

The silence swarms them again and again, drenched in spirits and ghosts and the sound of Death sharpening its scythe. Whiskey blinks and, amongst the black spots that cloud what's left of his dying vision, sees himself pulling the trigger once twice into Abel O'Malley's back, watches himself press his spear into Cecily Deerling's chest until he hears a crack and screams into the void and the fall with her, their last words together burning themselves into the forefront of his mind.

Snake eyes, the unluckiest roll, he feels his body begin to cave in as he looks up at Nixie Summers and bites at the raw fury that burns him from the inside out, swirling with the melancholic tone that cuts in between his words as he speaks.

"I think you're running from it all instead of actually winning." Cecily's final gasps of air peel back his skin and reveal the toxins and venom underneath, choking on his own blood and swaying on uneven stance. "I think it's gonna hurt you more than it helps."

[Attacks Nixie ; spear]

jlzJ0lZ8xKspear

[SC -- 3.5]

spear

Last Edit: Dec 13, 2021 23:14:12 GMT -5 by pogue

kap
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Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 13, 2021 23:30:27 GMT -5

Quote

Post by kap on Dec 13, 2021 23:30:27 GMT -5

His laugh echoes after mine, and for a moment, I wonder which of us is the villain. Some of those watching at home would probably have thought it was me for the past several days. Killing. Reveling in it. Wanting to kill more. I suppose they wouldn't be entirely wrong. I had some villainous tendencies at this point. It was pretty clear.

Others, however, might see it as Whiskey being the villain. He killed Abel before he probably had to. There were eight of us left at the start of that day, and although I didn't know whether it was he or Abel who started their fight, or how it went at all, I had a feeling that it could've gone another way.

Then again, if I were in his position, I probably would've done the same thing. I wouldn't have specifically hunted down Abel, but if our paths crossed that late in the game, I might've killed him too. I suppose I couldn't judge too much.

But, I wasn't trying to kill any of my allies until the very end. I was here, trying to kill Whiskey because we were the only ones left. Whether or not that was Whiskey's reason for trying to kill me in return I wasn't sure. Maybe it was because I struck him first. That didn't matter, though. We were both here, fighting, and if you asked me, we were both the villains here.

He thought I was full of shit. He told me that. I could see where he thought that. I could see him thinking I was a liar. He'd made that clear already, though, that he thought I was lying about caring about them all.

Wiz told me I was lying to myself, but I'd already contemplated that that could be the case. I didn't let myself think on it too hard, though. I didn't want to believe that. I wanted to believe that I did actually care about them. I just couldn't let it get in the way of winning.

"I think you're running from it all instead of actually winning," he tells me. "I think it's gonna hurt you more than it helps."

That's the bite I'd been waiting for from him. His words are stronger than his attacks. They make me think, and they hurt a bit. I won't let them break me, though. His steel cuts across my arm, but I won't let that break me either.

"If anyone's lying to themselves, Whiskey, it's you," I snap. "I don't have a reason to lie to myself, or to run from anything. I know who and what I am."

"I'm gonna tell you something that Cedric said to me before he died." Before I killed him, I should have said. "We're just people."

I looked at him for a moment.

'Now, of course, you and I, Wiz, are very different people." I trace his wounds with my eyes, looking at where steel met flesh. "We're both killers, we're both not quite sane, neither of us is truly above the other, and truly, I'd say we're both villains in our own way, but we're different, too."

I looked at him, wondering if he knew what that little difference was.

"You know why we're different, Wiz?"

I study his face for a moment.

"Because I'm the one who's supposed to win this fight. There's a reason I'm here, and it's not to die. Even if you think I'm lying to myself about everything else, the one truth I know is that I'm meant to wear that crown."

That crown would sit so nicely atop my head.

{ table by rose }

[Nixie attacks Whiskey, machete]
uphCyEKPWUsword
[1083 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage]

sword

Last Edit: Dec 13, 2021 23:30:57 GMT -5 by kap

pogue
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Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 14, 2021 9:28:26 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pogue on Dec 14, 2021 9:28:26 GMT -5

He swipes desperately out at Nixie Summer's, his spear hardly managing to clip her skin before she rolls out of the way and the momentum carries his weapon forwards to her left. It collides with the blood orange hue of the whiskey bottle she'd placed on the table, the alcohol pulled to the floor in the fight and shattering into oblivion. He feels the alcohol spray up into his wounds, gasps at the way the pain still crashes into his soul in newly formed waves as he stands waist deep in his own coffin, so far gone and yet refusing to let them close the door. Liquor spreads out over the floor as they dance away from one another, clutching their weapons and watching one another fade into nothing in entirely different ways.

There's eight days of everything he could have learned about Nixie Summers bubbling up to the surface just to be swiped away, a seventeen year olds rage and emptiness consuming him whole as they both swipe desperately at one another, following a path that had been carved for them both to stumble to the end. He bites back the feeling of understanding that he knows is beneath the surface and pulls forth the same delusion and bloodlust that has gotten every Finch before him killed and buried six feet under, provided an empty tombstone for an empty person. That's his curse, after all.

So desperately proving his own flaws fatal, he forces a painful smirk back onto his lips as Nixie launches herself back into self-righteousness, his words nipping at the veins underneath her skin. "If anyone's lying to themselves, Whiskey, it's you." She pours salt on his wounds. He's used to the burn. "I don't have a reason to lie to myself, or to run from anything. I know who and what I am."

"Do you?" He questions, biting at her emptiness just to watch poison bloom beneath the skin. He's calling Nixie Sumer's bluff out in furious abandon, unconvinced that an eighteen year old girl living a life he would have killed for, did kill for, would have the nerve to sit here and say she ever knew herself. Nixie Summer's path was already made for her in both arena and life. He might be dying, but at least he's not convincing himself there was ever a life worth living to be had.

"Yeah, just people." He echoes, stammering out the words in more of a huff than a declarative statement, feeling his life fade into the void with every shallow heartbeat that rings through his chest. "If we can call ourselves that at this point."

Nixie's pride will be her own downfall, it's what he convinces himself as her sword slices into his neck and he feels his own breaths swarm around the source, words of cockiness and swagger pounding against his eardrums even as his hearing threatens to disappear completely. "Just as-" and he chokes on his own blood, catching himself against one of the desks to his right. "Just as humble as I would have expected from a Career." He pokes, drags the knife across his opponent's skin just to watch her hurt.

"But you're right." He finally admits, fighting back his own blood loss and looking Nixie up and down. He can practically see the crown laced into her skull in the shadows, held up by twenty three dying souls. "You were meant for the crown." His words are sweet like poison, destroying him from the inside out. "It'll look good on you-" He smirks, all blood and yellow. "For a bit, at least."

That's the thing about the crown, he at least always knew that wearing it would have been nothing but his own downfall, nothing but an immolation and ash left hanging in the air. "But one thing's for sure." He wishes Nixie could know the same.

"I can't wait to watch it burn you alive from wherever I end up."

Dying hollow, only making sure that others are hurting before he goes. Always was more like his Father than he thought.

The spear shakes in his grasp as one hand leaves it, bloodied fingertips running numb as he witnesses his life fade from shallow and deep wounds, feels the ice creep into the empty spaces just to freeze him solid. The fire of his own fury is fading fast now, slipping into the same darkness he'd seen when the explosion of Bastian's jeep had swallowed him whole in fire and brimstone, black spots clouding up the corner of his vision and clawing at the frayed edges of his soul. They stare at each other for a half a moment, so wrapped up in their own stories to realize they're both a part of the same page, spilled blood obscuring the words and ending their stories before they even began.

Snake eyes drift downwards as he sways back and forth with the wind as it slips through open windows, swirling and curling against bloodied skin and pulling the sheets of ice from under his skin and to the surface, encasing him in his own final coffin. He's bleeding into his namesake now, waves of crimson and black slipping from his wounds and dripping into the spilled alcohol and glass that coats the floor of their small prison, a million digital hues swirling and bouncing in the liquid as the monitors blare.

His hand slips from spear to back pocket, hardly managing to keep his weapon pointing towards Nixie's throat as he feels the emergency flare gun thread itself between his fingertips. A fading heartbeat and his own ragged breaths are a chorus to his final move, quick and lifeless. All fang and poison and fear as he points the flare gun towards the spilled alcohol.

"Here, I'll even help start you off."

To watching ourselves run and burn, he thinks as he pulls the trigger, snake eyes watching the flames explode up from his own namesake.

[Lights spilled alcohol on fire with flare gun]

hmhA0FXUYFspear

[~~DG on neck~~ Severe burn? -- 10.0]

spear

Last Edit: Dec 14, 2021 9:29:56 GMT -5 by pogue

kap
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goomy goomy on the brain

Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 14, 2021 9:41:49 GMT -5

Quote

Post by kap on Dec 14, 2021 9:41:49 GMT -5

The bottle of liquor shatters on the floor, glass and booze going everywhere. I feel the pinpricks of small glass shards hitting my skin, and alcohol pierces my wounds.

"Shit!" I exclaim.

"Yeah, just people," Whiskey says, which was pretty much exactly what I'd said to Cedric before I killed him. Except, I wouldn't be the one dying here. I wouldn't let it happen.

"If we can call ourselves that at this point," he continues. I suppose he was right. We weren't really all that human at this point, with all the bloodlust and killing. All the chaos and destruction of lives. It was more monster than human.

Whiskey's shaking as he pulls something from his pocket, and I take a couple steps back. I have a feeling I know where this is going. It's an emergency flare. The one I'd given him from Laurence's stuff. Of course sharing with that motherfucker would be the bane of my existence, but I was determined not to make it my downfall.

"I can't wait to watch it burn you alive from wherever I end up."

"What the hell are you doing?" I hiss.

"Here, I'll even help start you off."

He shoots the flare gun at the spilled liquor and fire erupts in the room. The building swayed and I was honestly afraid it was going to collapse. I felt an intense burning feeling as the fire singed my skin.

"Fuck! Fuck you Whiskey! Fuck that hurts!" I scream at him, my voice shrill and angry, yet somewhat raspy from the smoke filling the room.

I hoped that fire killed him, but just in case it didn't, I readied my machete again. I was going to slash into nothingness to try to kill the guy if he wasn't already dead. After all, I wasn't sure if I'd heard a cannon or if I was going crazy.

Then again, wasn't I already crazy? There was no going where you already were.

{ table by rose }

[Nixie attacks Whiskey, machete]
ZLG3vyD_gvsword
[1146 -- Shallow Cut on Left Bicep -- 3.5 damage]

sword

Last Edit: Dec 14, 2021 9:42:21 GMT -5 by kap

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Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 14, 2021 13:18:39 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pogue on Dec 14, 2021 13:18:39 GMT -5

For a few spare moments they exist in smoke and shattered mirror, surrounded by the fractured bones of glass and burning blood. His own spear burns a memory into his palm, the flames crawling and licking up the hilt of his weapon until they reach his skin. He gasps for breath and finds only pain, blood and rot and blight burning away at the source as he stumbles away from the fire. It chases him down, carving a path in his own footsteps as it eats up his own namesake from the floor, turning the spirits in his shadow to nothing but dust and crawling up his form as he slams backwards against the wall.

Nixie screams in pain and fury and he meets it with his own, poisoned breaths and yellowed teeth and stained soul riddled with blood and guts. He hears his Father and his Mother riddled in between his own roars of pain, hears every glass bottle shattered and black eye bruised and every curse he'd ever thrown out in the world just to watch it come back to him.

The spear burns itself into his flesh, steel shining bright in the flame and the fury as Nixie cuts through the smoke, her sword gliding softly against his skin. He feels everything and nothing at all, so much pain and yet nothing more than he has always felt, nothing more than a Finch and a curse have ever given him.

His final stand is coated in flame and screaming something terrible, skin peeling off from the source and soaked in his own sins, a sickening mixture of crimson and black and all the blue he'd ever been forced to swallow in this life of his. Brutal and hopeless and everything he has always been.

How fitting.

[Attacks Nixie ; spear]

rfthL8szdcspear

[SC -- 3.5]

spear

Last Edit: Dec 14, 2021 13:19:46 GMT -5 by pogue

kap
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goomy goomy on the brain

Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 14, 2021 13:38:39 GMT -5

Quote

Post by kap on Dec 14, 2021 13:38:39 GMT -5

The flames were engulfing the room with heat and smoke. My blade hit something but I wasn’t sure if it was him. I couldn’t see worth shit. He was still alive from what I could tell, though, as his spear bit my skin again. Sweat started forming on my forehead and I winced. I wasn’t going to let him win, especially like this.

I went to speak, but smoke filled my lungs for a moment and I had to cough it out. C’mon, Nix, you can do this. I told myself this as confidently as I could. There was no reason to lose hope now. That wouldn’t be worth it. Those who didn’t have confidence didn’t get anywhere if you ask me.

You had to believe you could do it to actually get shit done. That’s just how life worked. So, I believed I could kill Whiskey right then. I believed I could win. I believed I could be the victor of these Games. Nothing could stop me now. I was too determined.

I was going to win. Just one more strike and he should be dead, surely, right? I needed to hear his cannon. The fire hadn’t taken him out yet though. I needed to do it. There was no aiming now though. It was just going to be a mad swing, hoping I’d hit him. Blindly attacking was ill advised, but my only option. I had to win. I had to win. I had to win. I needed that crown. It was mine.

Victorship didn’t belong to people like Whiskey. Nobodies from district seven. No. Victorship was meant for the careers, and I was the only one left.

Career tributes are meant to be victors. That’s how it should work. We all know that. It just seems that some people forget. I might not have volunteered for this like he did, but I was supposed to be here more than he was. I was the one who was supposed to win, too.

{ table by rose }

[Nixie attacks Whiskey, machete]
eIQU3QMeGBsword
[1023 -- Stabbed in ~~Neck~~ Heart* -- 40 10 damage]

*as per Pogue's request, the hit has been switched from stabbed in neck to stabbed in heart
sword

Last Edit: Dec 14, 2021 18:55:04 GMT -5 by kap

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goomy goomy on the brain

Extinction {89th Finale} Dec 14, 2021 19:29:12 GMT -5

Quote

Post by kap on Dec 14, 2021 19:29:12 GMT -5

The smoke was still filling the room when I felt my blade shove through something— which turned out to be Whiskey's body— and heard his cannon. I'd won. I'd really, seriously won. I suppose in those final moments, I did doubt myself a little, which is never good, but it seemed that didn't matter. Fate and skill combined had carried me to this victory, and I was damn proud of it.

"I won. I fucking won…" I muttered through the smoke. Then, I felt it start to fill my lungs. No, I couldn't die now! I'd just won! They couldn't let their new victor just die in some smoky room! No!

Everything was starting to fade for me. The room was spinning and all I saw were the orange flames that were growing around me. Eventually, I collapsed to the ground. I was starting to lose consciousness. The light was fading and darkness was closing in. I knew I couldn't die here. They wouldn't let me. Surely they were just waiting for some dramatic effect or something, right? They had to come get me. I didn't want to rely on someone else to save me. That wasn't very career of me, but it was what I needed right now.

Eventually, I completely passed out. Visions started playing behind my eyelids. First, I saw faces, but I couldn't quite make out whose they were. At least, not at first. I tried to focus, but it was like a dream where I didn't have much control. Actually, it was more like watching a film shot on a shitty camera where it wasn't quite in focus. Like the visual quality wasn't quite there.

After a moment or so, it was like someone had adjusted the lens and it all came into focus. It was the faces of the people I'd killed. Luya. The small girl from Eleven. She was innocent. She didn't do anything to make me feel obligated to target her. I'd done it because I wanted that taste of a first kill. Still, though. I didn't regret it. It felt good, and it brought me to victory, in the end.

Laurence was next. He hadn't even gotten a word in before I killed him. Again, like Luya, I didn't see that he'd done anything wrong, but there was no remorse from me. It got me one step closer to winning in the end. I just wish I'd never given Whiskey that damn flare out of Laurence's bag. Then I wouldn't have had to deal with that shitstorm of a fire.

Cedric. The first one who actually did some actual damage to me when he fought back. He was a fun one to toy with for our fight. No regrets there, especially because he didn't seem to mind fighting me, either. He taught me that everyone in this arena were just people, and I would have thanked him for that had I not killed him. It was all necessary, though, in the end.

Zane was after Cedric. I could remember my machete driving through his eye. The blood spilling everywhere. Damn kid had even cut off my ear, but the fight was enjoyable and his quips were clever, nonetheless. No remorse. No regrets.

Lastly was Whiskey. He was my last kill, and the only one that actually kind of hurt to make. Even if he didn't believe I cared about anyone in this arena, he was wrong. I cared about Tsara, Sinead, Abel and even him. I didn't want to kill him, and I wouldn't have wanted to kill any of the other three if it came down to it, either. I just did what I had to. Sure, we bickered for those first couple days, but I'd thought we had eventually became friends. I guess he didn't see that.

It didn't matter now, though. He was dead, and I was the victor, and as long as the Gamemakers got me out of this smokey room in time, I wouldn't be a dead victor.

Then, the faces started to fade, and I could feel my consciousness fading even further. Even my dreams were starting to evade me.

In the end, though, that crown was mine, just like I deserved.

{ table by rose }

♛End of the 89th Annual Hunger Games♛

acknowledgements:

First and foremost, I want to thank the Gamemakers d7m fraser birk ♚ frankel ryan and sbeeg for making these Games so enjoyable for me! I had an absolute blast with this, and it was one of the best Games experiences I've ever had. Thank you for making such a great arena and giving me the opportunity to write Nixie in it!

Next, to my allies d10f ekta ram // [earthling] pogue bailee and @icyhot ! You've all been so amazing these Games, and it was amazing allying with all of you! I've loved reading your tributes' stories, and the dynamics we were able to create were absolutely incredible! I hope we can ally again sometime!

я𝑜𝓈𝑒 , thank you so much for Luya's beautiful story! Although she and Nixie didn't know each other all that well, her death at the end of Nixie's blade will forever be a contribution to her life and her story. Nixie won't be forgetting her anytime soon, and neither will I!

arx , thank you so much for the opportunity to read Laurence's adventures through the arena! I'm sorry we didn't get more time for them to interact or get to know each other, and it's unfortunate that he and Nixie never even really got to speak before he died, but he was also such a great contribution to Nixie's story!

Python , thank you for the wonderful story of Cedric Hardin! Your writing of Cedric was hands down one of my favorite things to read this Games, and I thoroughly enjoyed our fight together! Thank you so much for allowing him to be a piece of Nixie's stories to come.

lance , thank you for giving us Zane's story, and all of the wonderful pieces that played into it! I really enjoyed our fight, and Zane's quips were -chef's kiss- if you ask me. The comment about when Nixie tried aiming for his head? Comedy gold! Nixie won't be forgetting him anytime soon!

pogue (again), thank you so much for introducing us to Whiskey and his story! He was truly a gem to read, and your writing is top tier! Our finale fight was iconic, if you ask me. I also loved every moment of reading and writing alongside Whiskey! From the bickering between he and Nixie, to his Picasso-like jeep driving skills, he will be missed, and is a huge part of Nixie's story!

To all the other tributes:
Thank you so much for giving us your tributes' stories! Every single one of them was beautiful, and I can't wait to read more from all of you in the future! You all made these Games what they were, and I'm beyond thrilled to have been a part of this with you all!

To d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi , my number one hype-girl these games! You've been so supportive of every single good thing that's happened to me recently, and were one of the first to message me and congratulate me on becoming the victor of these Games. Can't wait for Nixie to meet Lys!

and lastly but certainly not least:

To all of you spectators these Games: thank you! You've all been so amazing and supportive, and you've all made me feel really good about my writing lately, too! It's been an amazing time, and I hope all of you enjoyed reading Nixie as much as I enjoyed writing her for you all (and for myself, of course)!

Thank you, everyone, for a wonderful Games!

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Post by sbeeg on Dec 11, 2021 11:37:24 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Dec 14, 2021 13:18:39 GMT -5

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