all my girls like to fight // nb v sc, day three.

Carly learns quick that quiet moments are fleeting in the arena.

The most peaceful time of day, to her knowledge, is in the early hours right before the sun starts to rise. She steps back through time, sits in the violet blur of a waking sky, washes her hair and imagines scrubbing the chaotic thoughts out of her mind. The panic, the regret, the little itch just beneath her confidence, her courage. She's only a warrior in the way that she makes her every word sound like a battle cry, a call to arms; passionate.

She's ruled by her passion.

In another lifeline, that would have been it. End of the story, top of her class and graduates with honors, marries her high school sweetheart at eighteen, fails to find a job despite her stellar resume, unravels herself and takes all her ambitions and burns them like letters that will never be read. That's always been the fear that stokes the adrenaline in her, the little burst of energy she can always manage to channel. It keeps her running. She's grateful for it.

Even when it urges her to stab a stranger in the heart.

When the historians write about her, she's not sure about whether or not she cares if they think she isn't a good person. She thinks about Aneesa, how she's walking the bloody path she left behind, how she's turning the tragedy that took her best friend way into a career move. A desperate ploy. She doesn't know how to lose, refusing to be knocked off her feet. This nation has tried to destroy her in more ways than one, and she has the scars to prove it.

And here she stands. Stepping forward through the memory, to the present moment ⁠— to the babbling river, and the way a flock of harmless birds soaring overhead. Andrew's smiling, the same charming smile that keeps flashing in her daydreams, the crush stoking the embers of her self-sabotage. The terrible thing is that it doesn't feel scary at all; the way she trusts him, trusts them. Regardless of her intention to win, none of that changes. She cares for them, she feels safe with them, the thought of losing them is the haunting she's choosing.

For her to go home, only their ghosts can follow her. Tune says something that makes her laugh, she imagines the world where they could know each other outside of their darkest moment. Lantern in the night. To keep her people safe, she will do anything. Let that be known.

It's a peaceful evening, and then the moment shifts. Figures emerging in the distance, one chance look granting Tune the advantage to strike. Carly's already given the once over of all the tributes remaining in the Games, the base stats and threat levels, and approaching like a tidal wave she watches uneven odds come to stand before them. She and the others already talked about what to do in the off chance they come across a risk without being prepared. The upper hand is not a something that should be sacrificed. She stares at Lux, the perfect starlet to join her in the finale. Of course she knows what the Capitol wants.

She's read the script in advance, made her improvisations.

There's only one choice to make, and she is proud of Tune. Charges behind her as quickly as she can manage, calling for Andrew behind her. "Watch my back and keep them off!" Unlatching the sickle from her belt, boots stomping through shallow water and midday fog, she joins the fray just as Tune takes the brunt of two attackers. She stands her ground, always, and Carly trusts her to make all the right decisions. She tries to do the same. The fabric over Lux's chest blooms scarlet, a critical wound, and there's a moment where she almost hesitates. Appearing like a wraith beside her former castmate, weapon raised and catching the pale sunlight like a beacon.

A warning.

"Take your dogs and run," she urges, just loud enough to get her attention over the chaos, "or learn what happens when you stand in my way."

"I'm not sure we should-"

Worst thing about playing a dumb jock? People treated him like a dumb jock. Everyone. He'd seen the curse at play his entire life, ever the gargantuan child, but since he'd made a decision to consciously lean into it in hopes that it would increase his sponsors, Andrew didn't think he'd had a single interaction since that wasn't swayed by the person h was pretending to be. It was like people had always thought the same things about them, and he'd almost given them permission to speak on it.

Even Tune and Carly, when it came time for strategy talk, acted like any of his ideas were refrigerator décor by default. He quickly resigned to nodding, watching the two hastily draw out battleplans while the three of them walked together, a stone's throw away from the river now that Tune checked her traps and Andrew speared some fish for their breakfast and Carly filled their canteens with new water. He thought the idea of Tune drinking from that chalice, that silly cup the slimey inn keeper cared so much about, hilarious. It was, after all, a cup. Andrew wondered if they could've just found any cup anywhere and brought it back and convinced him it was his. He clearly was on some sort of pre-programmed/controlled system, an avatar being played by a pair of hands miles and miles away from them now.

As Tune raced forward, he shook his head. This wasn't a good idea. They'd stumbled into the rejected career alliance- the one from Two who was on that show with Carly and the one from Four who Andrew would've killed in the bloodbath if he had gotten his hands on an axe in time. They might not have been impressive enough for the girls from 1 and 2, and they might not have been clever enough to get Derecho on their side for some added padding but they were definitely stronger than the night brigade, on their little death mission for a fucking slimeball property renter.

There were more of them, for starters, half of them were trained for this scenario, and Andrew knew that of the three of them, he was the hardest target to miss. They were growing too comfortable in their successes. So was the way of youth, inevitably, he supposed. Maybe he'd been correct in designating himself the stupid, lovable oaf. He'd certainly just walked into a very, very dangerous situation all on his own accord, and that wasn't something the old Andrew would've ever done. He wouldn't have even considered it. But seeing Tune charge in so bravely, and then Carly immediately after, he couldn't leave them. Even if it meant-

"Watch my back," Carly said as she dived into the madness, right before Lux blocked her attack. Well, shit.

Like Carly, the girl was carrying a sickle, and like Carly, she was quick on the draw. Andrew barely had time to make it to them and step into her line of fire. And- "FUCK!" The blade ripped across his chest- all the way from his right shoulder to his left side. It was an all-encompassing, dreadful kind of pain, the sort that hurt in so many places that he didn't even know what to shout for in particular.

He used the only bit of sense he could muster in the moment and shoved Carly back from him enough that she could re-evaluate her attack strategy. Deep breath in. It was better that they were attacking him- he had more meat and more armor and it gave Carly and Tune some semblance of time to figure out what the fuck they were going to do here to make sure all three of them lived through it.

"That's right, eyes on me," he said to her through a slightly hoarse voice. He blew air out, pushing the pain away with it.

The boy from the bloodbath was close enough now that even if Andrew weren't only pretending to be an idiot, he would've definitely known that the boy had intention of following up what the girl had just started. Not if he had anything to say about it.

She realises after it happens that she's smiling.

Tune stands in a daze, watching the way red blooms against Lux Bellisario's uniform - all the while, the river current runs true. She'd done it. And of course she had, element of surprise paying off. The other kids' heads snap toward her and her smile flickers - pulling the saber handle back as Lux slams the blade out of her.

Turns around, seething.

Still alive.

The smile vanishes.

Carly lunges, but her blade finds air. Lux parries it away and Andrew's at their side now - then there's red, Andrew's forehead smeared with it. The wolves descend and Tune tries to fight them off, she does, but what's a sword to a glaive just like Carly's?

She stumbles backward, trying to fight them both off. Two on one, four on three, when their blades find her skin it hurts twice as badly. De ja vu - she shouldn't have, she shouldn't have thought she could kill a Career. Tiny, malnourished girl from District Twelve - against them?

Stupid, she thinks, stupid stupid, her breath hitches with the thoughts. Red blood, dancing in the dark, Andrew, Andrew. Faster, faster, gasp, breathe, gasp, air, current, river, twirl, her hand in Andrew's, blood in his eyes, stupid stupid stupid-

Tune screams his name, "Andrew!" and launches herself at Lux once more. Rage, stupor. Rash and furious.