last night; when we were young [dctd/tocco/cfc; day 3]
Oct 30, 2022 8:09:46 GMT -5
Post by ines izar d11a 🖤 cait on Oct 30, 2022 8:09:46 GMT -5
“Do you want to die?”
It was the question that kept me awake last night. That, and the threat of another attack from the shadows, of course. But it was also Fenrir’s fury, aimed sharply at me, that made me hastily accept the majority of the night watch shift. The worst part was trying to ignore Fenrir’s intermittent staring, making sure I didn’t do anything reckless to get us killed during the night.
Do I want to die? No, I don’t think so, but I probably will, ‘cause I don’t know how to live properly. The way I’m supposed to. There’s always something to fuck up, and all of my actions have consequences – this I know. But in here, they affect more than just myself. When Fenrir jumped into the lake after me, I immediately tasted his blood in the water, the fresh clots washed away as his wounds reopened in the biting cold. His iron tasted like guilt – sobering and sour, curdling in my stomach swiftly.
Safe to say, we didn’t stay in the lake for long after that.
After Fenrir had wrangled me out of the water and shaken himself dry as best as he could, we sat down near Nicoli on opposite sides of the bank and listened to his prayers. The ritual of protection, as he called it. Not that I think it makes any difference to our fates. Repeated chants and placing faith in a higher being are not things I’m familiar with. Fate comes for us, cruel and unforgiving, no matter who we decide to pray to, how we fill our days.
But who knows. Maybe that’s the type of thinking that will get me killed sooner rather than later. Maybe Nicoli knows something I don’t.
Or maybe we’re all just doomed no matter what.
But I didn’t voice my thoughts – managed to bite my tongue for once – because Nicoli had looked too peaceful, caught up in the words spilling from his lips. Even Fenrir’s face softened slightly as I watched him be transported to another place – somewhere familiar, somewhere safer. I was envious of their peace, at their ability to find a way to bring some piece of home with them.
Do I want to die? No, not in here. Not on unfamiliar plains surrounded by people I’ll never relate to. The hope of surviving long enough to die somewhere dignified is what keeps me moving this morning, despite the aching all throughout my body and the insatiable, inhumane hunger gnawing at my stomach. It’s clear that we have become monsters – or at least, what the Capitol’s ideas of monsters are. Vampires and werewolves alike, we make a strange group as we approach a vacant cave, Nicoli at the head of our pack. But relief quickly turns to dread as my new, heightened senses taste the air.
Everything smells of stale blood.
Something feels wrong.
Do I want to die? No, but this place makes me think that bleeding horizon is closer than we know.
“I know it sounds stupid, but I think we should find somewhere else to rest.” Call it a sixth sense, call it unnecessary worry, call it whatever you want. But I know my instincts. I know the feeling of burning adrenaline pushing you to make a spontaneous call based purely on a feeling. I’ve lived with a fucked up frontal lobe long enough to survive this far. Why stop listening to it now?
I’m turning to face Nicoli and pull him back out of the cave when the light at the entrance disappears, and the air becomes fiercely cold.
Company.
Shit.
Fenrir notices the newcomers a split second before I do, and my eyes widen in horror at the lazy smile creeping across his face. It’s the same expression he wore when the red shadow eyes approached yesterday and, well… look how well that went for us.
“We should go…”
But that’s not really an option, is it? Not when Fenrir is already moving towards the other tributes hungrily – the spitting image of a nightmare. Nicoli hangs back, probably wondering what went wrong in his prayers to bring us to this very moment and wishing he had a back-up candle to light. I take a shaky breath – notice the way my chest feels lighter, despite the impossibility of that – and place a hand on Nicoli’s shoulder to steady myself.
“Are we really doing this?”
Yeah. I guess we are. Because no, I don’t want to die, Fenrir. Not at all.
It was the question that kept me awake last night. That, and the threat of another attack from the shadows, of course. But it was also Fenrir’s fury, aimed sharply at me, that made me hastily accept the majority of the night watch shift. The worst part was trying to ignore Fenrir’s intermittent staring, making sure I didn’t do anything reckless to get us killed during the night.
Do I want to die? No, I don’t think so, but I probably will, ‘cause I don’t know how to live properly. The way I’m supposed to. There’s always something to fuck up, and all of my actions have consequences – this I know. But in here, they affect more than just myself. When Fenrir jumped into the lake after me, I immediately tasted his blood in the water, the fresh clots washed away as his wounds reopened in the biting cold. His iron tasted like guilt – sobering and sour, curdling in my stomach swiftly.
Safe to say, we didn’t stay in the lake for long after that.
After Fenrir had wrangled me out of the water and shaken himself dry as best as he could, we sat down near Nicoli on opposite sides of the bank and listened to his prayers. The ritual of protection, as he called it. Not that I think it makes any difference to our fates. Repeated chants and placing faith in a higher being are not things I’m familiar with. Fate comes for us, cruel and unforgiving, no matter who we decide to pray to, how we fill our days.
But who knows. Maybe that’s the type of thinking that will get me killed sooner rather than later. Maybe Nicoli knows something I don’t.
Or maybe we’re all just doomed no matter what.
But I didn’t voice my thoughts – managed to bite my tongue for once – because Nicoli had looked too peaceful, caught up in the words spilling from his lips. Even Fenrir’s face softened slightly as I watched him be transported to another place – somewhere familiar, somewhere safer. I was envious of their peace, at their ability to find a way to bring some piece of home with them.
Do I want to die? No, not in here. Not on unfamiliar plains surrounded by people I’ll never relate to. The hope of surviving long enough to die somewhere dignified is what keeps me moving this morning, despite the aching all throughout my body and the insatiable, inhumane hunger gnawing at my stomach. It’s clear that we have become monsters – or at least, what the Capitol’s ideas of monsters are. Vampires and werewolves alike, we make a strange group as we approach a vacant cave, Nicoli at the head of our pack. But relief quickly turns to dread as my new, heightened senses taste the air.
Everything smells of stale blood.
Something feels wrong.
Do I want to die? No, but this place makes me think that bleeding horizon is closer than we know.
“I know it sounds stupid, but I think we should find somewhere else to rest.” Call it a sixth sense, call it unnecessary worry, call it whatever you want. But I know my instincts. I know the feeling of burning adrenaline pushing you to make a spontaneous call based purely on a feeling. I’ve lived with a fucked up frontal lobe long enough to survive this far. Why stop listening to it now?
I’m turning to face Nicoli and pull him back out of the cave when the light at the entrance disappears, and the air becomes fiercely cold.
Company.
Shit.
Fenrir notices the newcomers a split second before I do, and my eyes widen in horror at the lazy smile creeping across his face. It’s the same expression he wore when the red shadow eyes approached yesterday and, well… look how well that went for us.
“We should go…”
But that’s not really an option, is it? Not when Fenrir is already moving towards the other tributes hungrily – the spitting image of a nightmare. Nicoli hangs back, probably wondering what went wrong in his prayers to bring us to this very moment and wishing he had a back-up candle to light. I take a shaky breath – notice the way my chest feels lighter, despite the impossibility of that – and place a hand on Nicoli’s shoulder to steady myself.
“Are we really doing this?”
Yeah. I guess we are. Because no, I don’t want to die, Fenrir. Not at all.
ace attacks cantara – glaive
cT0MCX|PUfglaive
deep gash on right thigh – 8.0
![d10f ekta ram // [earthling] Avatar](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/81/Simone_Ashley_en_2022.jpg)
