through gritted teeth // night brigade, day 2.
Jul 2, 2022 20:27:56 GMT -5
Post by ✨ zozo. on Jul 2, 2022 20:27:56 GMT -5
"Both Threes, both Eights," Tune reports, neck craning to look up at the night sky through the open tavern window, "...and Cain. Erm- Eleven. He's from Eleven."
Was from Eleven.
The anthem says goodnight, its melody echoing between the floorboards as Tune, Andrew and Carly set up camp for the night. She's grateful for two things: a warm place to sleep tonight, sheltered from the outdoors, and to not have seen Texas' face staring back down at her.
As she pulls her upper body in from the open window, Tune gnaws on the inside of her teeth absent-mindedly. It's not like she regrets helping her district partner, winding bandages around the gashes in his back and tying them up as Carly had hers, it's just she feels guilty - and a little paranoid. Would Carly and Andrew find out? See her act of treason as a deal-breaker? Or would they come to harm by Texas, healed from disinfected wounds? Would she?
Tune stirs into her bed roll laid out on the floor by the fire, sword clutched in her hands for safe-keeping. Texas wasn't the only thing lingering on her conscience - the silly, stupid dance she and Andrew had shared in front of the fireplace still haunts her. She tries to tell herself it will be fine, sitting up to plop an iodine tablet into her now-filled flask and screws on the lid a little too tightly. That it was just a stupid dance, bucket-list bullshit. That she had stiffened at the touch of his hand from discomfort, not nerves. That she hadn't kind of enjoyed it. Hadn't felt her heart sink when the song ended, melting away from their gentle embrace with a sad smile.
She sinks to the floor, a bad feeling that she'd come to regret messing around with Andrew Priest more than helping Texas Lovell survive another day.
Stupid boys is the last thing she thinks before falling into a restless slumber, the tavern haunted with eerie echoes of voices above and the ballad Tune and Andrew had shared a moment in.
Never mind Carly's sickle - these boys would surely be the death of her.
The trek across the river and forest is mostly silent, Tune putting as much distance between herself and Andrew as possible. She opts to march ahead with Carly, discussing the instructions that the innkeeper had left them: to retrieve ale from the forest for a reward. Although their packs were full to burst, bodies laden with protective gear and hands armed with deadly weapons - Tune felt greedy.
She wanted the reward, wanted as much of an advantage as possible. To balance out the weight of a guilty conscience in the form of Tex's face, or simply because she had gone 16 years without anything? Tune wasn't sure. But the feeling propelled her feet forward, the sound of all of their collective gold coins jingling from the pouch tied around her neck, its weight thumping steady against her sternum. "We're rich!" she had exclaimed, marvelling at the gold coins they'd discovered amongst the rubble and ruin of the Bloodbath. Never had she seen so much wealth in one place - and now here it was, sure against her chest like a drumming pulse.
And still she wants more, so forgive her for running ahead once they reach the forest. Fastest kid on Meadow Lane, edge of the Seam - it had gotten her a measly 6 in training, but Tune is determined to prove her worth. She'd outrun any tribute trying to reach their destination - and run she does.
Runs and runs and runs until she can no longer hear the voices of Andrew and Carly behind her, most likely warnings to be careful, to stay together. Forgive her, girl from the Seam of Twelve - born in a wooden shack you could barely call a house - for letting her greed get the best of her for a moment.
"Guys?" she calls, hearing a low growl from behind. "Andrew?"
She turns, cautiously, adrenaline spiking and dropping - no longer from hope, but now a fear creeps into her bones and halts her frozen in place.
"Carly?"
Closer, closer - Tune grits her teeth, wields her sword, shuffles her feet to fighting stance. It is not Carly, not Andrew, not another tribute. Not even Tex, begging for help. It is something else. Other.
And when whatever lunges for her from the trees, she does not hesitate to strike.
tune attacks mutt #1, saber (sword)
FZUhPTMygZsword
Shallow Cut on Stomach -- 4.0 damage
FZUhPTMygZsword
Shallow Cut on Stomach -- 4.0 damage
sword