thunderclap [starlords v boltmares] day 3

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

Nighttime does not bring any sort of resolve to my mind's distress. I just want to be over it. People move on from killing someone in the games enough to try to do it again the next day, so why is it so difficult to accept what I did? I sit near the entrance of our cave for the night, trying to mask my sniffling nose as much as I can to keep the others from waking up. Like a jacket's zipper, it only seems to make it louder. Maybe that's my survival instinct– to make people feel bad for me to the point where they'll protect me instead of come for me next. How selfish is that, and how selfish am I for letting it persist?

Night goes on, and Calamity's face is eventually revealed in the sky's anthem for everyone to see. Terribly sorry, I keep my head down for a few moments after. I dip my katana into the light water, waving it through to wipe the deepest stains of their blood off. Something feels different in the dynamic between myself and Ama and Haze. Do they think differently of me now that I've killed someone without so much as a second thought? Things with Pierce have shifted, perhaps in the opposite direction. Pierce would probably keep the blood somewhere as an artifact like flowers pressed upon a scrapbook page. Admiration and hate coexist in my thoughts about him. He's unbothered by what he sees, more preoccupied with his hunt for a cigarette than any of the bloodshed. How can he do that I think, mainly out of jealousy in our given situation. Pierce has it all figured out for himself. Good for him.

Once my turn to take watch is over, I curl up beneath the low ceiling part of the cave. The tight quarters give me the false sense of security I need to rest. Pierce isn't too far away his bow still in his hand. I stare at him to help myself fall asleep.

***

I wake up to what feels like a warm damp cloth dripping on my cheeks. Instead, though, I look above to the ceiling to see stains of red, splattered like fresh paint on a canvas. I whimper with disgust as the blood continues to trickle down onto every part of my lying body. "Fuck, no, no," the noises I make are disorganized and scattered. I push my body backward further into the cave where there isn't blood. My first instinct is to look for my friends. Ama's okay, half-awake by the water's edge. Pierce is fine, playing with the string of his boy like an angel with his harp. And Haze, well, she's already up and taking on the day. And it surely isn't my blood. I take a sigh of relief, eyes squinted in fear to reexamine the blood stain above my resting place.

If nobody here is injured, there's only one conclusion: it's the Game Makers trying to mess with my head. Dangling from the bloodstained ceiling is a souvenir locket. I pull it from the top and open it up. Calamity's portrait, identical to the photograph of them in last night's anthem, lies in its wake. I scratch the dried-up blood off of their face and dip it in the water once to clean it up. I throw it into my pocket without another word to the others.

***

We've decided to go up the mountain. There were two prominent options: the mountain and a beautiful forest of pink. I'm glad we chose the mountain as all the pretty and delicate things in the arena will turn into horror. Sometimes, the most appealing part of the arena can be its most deadly.

Haze is the first to point out the creatures rushing toward us. Boltmares, she yells, and I begin to pull the katana from my side. The mares track like wild horses ready to feast, as if we're already dead (because in some ways, we are.) The one blazing in my direction knocks me down. My free arm flies backward, smashing against one of the sharp stones nearby. I yell out in pain as the mare seems to celebrate on its back hooves. "If they're from the storm then why don't they go find another storm to play in!"

I swing to kill: creatures are much different from humans.

[ brennan attacks the boltmare stampede ; katana ]
5Eo5xxX5edsword
[ 1124 -- Severed Right Leg at Hip -- 10 damage + 1.0 Blades ]

Where the nightmares go, the storm follows, and Haizea finds herself right in the middle of its chaos. 

It reminds her of the bloodbath, how quick it comes and how overwhelmed she finds herself. Even as she lands a sharp hit, she loses her maimed target in the herd of boltmares rushing around her and on top of her friends. She's lucky to slide between two charging stallions, yelping as she barely finds the time to react. It all happens so fast, it's impossible to keep track of everything at once. 

"There must be a dozen of them," she says under her breath. Desperately searching for a strategy just as she searches for her three allies amidst the crowd - she sees just as Brennan is trampled, mangled under the boltmares just as Littleton follows, swept under tow the forces that meet them. Haizea freezes for a second ultimately too long before making a dash towards Amaterasu, stumbling as she avoids yet another charging beast. 

Careful not to suffer the same fate as the boys, she can't imagine the pain and she doesn't try to. Instead, she reaches for Ama, clutching her at the wrist and pulling her towards the rock cover Haizea herself had been using to avoid damage thus far. Safe, she signs with her left hand - please, stay safe. It only takes a second to slip up and find yourself beneath the herd, Haze arms herself as she steps away from the crag, determined to help the best she can.

[ attacks boltmare trampling pierce ]
3XhTPYdVsk200+9000
[ 9049 - 3.5 damage ]

There isn't enough time to save everyone - there isn't even enough time to save one person, but she tries regardless. Haphazardly, she throws a knife at the stallion's neck, trying to pull attention long enough for Pierce to find his way to his feet. She's quick, if anything she has that going for her, but as the creature stares her down she wonders if that's going to be enough. Haizea hooks her arm in Pierce's, helping him to his feet in the middle of the purple storm. 

"Are you okay?" She asks, frantic, hoping Brennan is able to help himself. 

〖    p i e r c e    l i t t l e t o n    〗

The rush of battle is a drumbeat in his veins. They tried to simulate the feeling in training but he's discovered in the arena there's really nothing like it. It is a very pure high, a coursing of adrenaline, clarity, determination. It's not necessarily preferrable to any other sort of high but it is compelling. Desirable.

He doesn't hate to feel it again, even as the boltmares blur into one mass. Even as his bow sings an aria as he stretches it, taking up valuable seconds. Even as hooves clobber him, threatening to crush bones, forcing him to the ground.

There's a kind of irony in the moment; the first time he feels vulnerable in the arena it isn't Brennan who grabs him.

It's Hazeia.

"Are you okay?" She asks, her decidedly human arm looping around his.

Pierce coughs to test the strength of his ribcage. Somewhat surprisingly, it holds. "Fine," he says, even though the bruises up and down his torso feel like a straight jacket. With Haze's help he comes to his feet all at once.

"Don't stop!"

Brennan rallies faster than Pierce does. Which, yeah, tracks. He desperately wants to craddle his own torso, to hike high in hopes of finding some snow or ice. But he needs two hands for his bow and he's still got two hands so he lifts the weapon.

"Hazeia," he says, her full name sounding foreign on his lips, "once we kill these motherfuckers, remind me to thank you."

With Amaterasu's last strike, the herd before them has dissipated - either fled or killed. Growing up in eleven, she always had a soft spot for horses, walking through the corpses and bloodshed feels like a graveyard of an eight year old girl's dreams. Beautiful beasts they are; it was them or us. In this arena, nothing's sacred. 

Haizea relaxes her shoulders a minute after registering the fight as over, remaining at a tension just in case any of the fallen mares got a sudden resurgence. It never comes - it's over. The chaos subsides and all that's left is Haze, Ama, Pierce and Brennan, and all the corpses in between. It could definitely be worse, but luckily everyone looks to be in one piece. Part of her looks to Pierce eagerly, awaiting a thank you she's too docile to ask for. Her eyes skirt from him to Brennan to Ama again, each of them holding onto a different injury. 

"Well, nobody died!" She pipes up, trying to look towards the bright side. Somehow she managed to skirt through completely unharmed, even if she had dodged charging boltmares with only a hair's width between them. Haizea finds herself offering a hand to Brennan, "anything broken?" She asks, looking him over after the battery that was him getting trampled by the stampede. "Things might have gotten dicey for a second, but I think we pulled through alright," nothing a little tender, love and care can't fix. 

And she's just the one to give it! 

[ haizea flees with brennan ]