slizzard [slay vs starlords] day 4

e l m  -  e r r i n g t o n

We were lucky to all make it out alive yesterday. We all know it.

I can’t say that it didn’t feel real before, because it felt real the moment the adrenaline wore off after the Bloodbath. But there’s something about seeing my allies bloody and bruised that makes me feel like I’m here, this is happening, and that we are all going to die.

It’s likely, after all. When I look at Svet, I think: if she wins, Dorothy dies. And Theo dies. And I die. When I look at Dorothy, I think: if she wins, Svet dies, Theo dies, I die. If Theo wins…

And on and on and on. There’s not any situation where we all make it out of here alive. I’m not thinking about it because I want all of them gone, not at all – I’m just glancing at their faces and imagining that one day soon, they won’t be breathing. We are our own memento mori.

With nothing else to do but keep moving, we trudge along toward a new day. The sky clears and the flashes of lightning cease, and the Arena opens up for us. We follow Dorothy’s lead, though she is perhaps faring the worst of all of us. I think for a moment that maybe I should strive ahead and take charge, but who am I to lead anyone into anything? I’m strong, but I’m not… good enough, to lead us anywhere. None of us know where we’re going, but I know the least of all.

When Dorothy says we should keep quiet, I nod. I’ve been shrinking myself smaller and smaller and smaller ever since I got to this place, so I don’t feel inclined to say anything. There’s a tension hanging in the air regardless, and every moving shadow makes my heart clench in my chest. The inevitability of a fight keeps me alert, and I grip the handle of my weapon with both fists.

Then– a person-shaped shadow emerges around the corner. With nerves ready to pull me apart, I don’t think. I don’t hesitate this time.

I grit my teeth and swing.

"Woah, this place is huge!" 

It's something out of her dreams - though, she doesn't have too many of those lately. This entire arena has felt shrouded in it, something amazing she can't quite process. How can a place this beautiful be so deadly? Between the storm, the mares and the other tributes, she hasn't been able to ease up once, even in their crag base or the steam baths. They've tried their hardest to stick to the game without going crazy, but Haizea craves to explore every nook and cranny she can find. It's a waste of time, it's strategically a terrible idea, but she wakes her allies up late in the morning and convince them regardless. 

By her observations, they should be the first ones this north. The journey up the mountain has been their main goal from the start; aside from the vantage point, she deeply wanted to know what waited for them at its peak. It's all by design, she reminds herself on the uphill hike. Behind every flower, every rock, every breeze, is the hands of the gamemakers, and she isn't removed from that idea either. There's a meta to it that isn't lost to her: this is all one giant game. 

She'll play it how she sees fit. 

The more ground she covers, the more she etches an understanding of the arena, and in part, the gamemakers. The ancient ruins has called her name since they spotted it late in the evening yesterday, worn down by the boltmare stampede. There is no door to the building; there is hardly a building remaining. As she approaches the center of the room, her allies are more cautious than she is. Perhaps it's the good night's rest, perhaps it's a new found confidence. 

Haizea stands taller than the west end wall, craning her head to check outside through the missing breaks and decay. Vines and moss cover cracks she'd otherwise miss, running her hands through the hanging foliage cascading down the ruins. "I wonder why they broke it down," she ponders to no one in particular. What's the reason for designing something they can't fully explore? Haze takes a few steps up the staircase before coming to a halt at a gap far too large for a girl her size to jump. 

No use - by the time she turns back, she hears a metal clunk. A second one, she squints as she scans the room: Amaterasu has her katana raised, Pierce is tense. Next moment, they are swarmed, two- no, three tributes at least. "We're surrounded!" Haze calls out as she takes cover beneath the staircase before a sickening crack comes over the room. A breaking of bone she can only hope she heard wrong, her hands fumble with her bag as she draws a jar she had been holding onto for a desperate moment. 

What she plans to do would make her mother cry, but sometimes you just have to. Haizea is frantic as she strikes her flint against the brick wall next to her and praying until the sparks catch on the sticky, sickly tar her knives are now covered in. 

Let there be light, "god, get me through this," she mutters before taking aim. 

[ lights 4 shuriken ]
[ throws shuriken at svetlana ]
bzm99rztyJ200+9000
[ 9006 -- Deep Gash on Neck -- 10.0 damage + 1 target practice ]

1-50
[ +2 fire ]

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

The spends the soft part of the night, just after twilight, fighting with his own brain. He should settle down, shut his eyes, allow the brainwashing to make him anew. But with Brennan right by his side, he can't. Instead, he turns to the fire, takes out the manga he'd found at the Cornucopia, and reads it cover to cover.

Close to dawn he finally drifts off, curled close to Brennan, warm and secure.

The four of them have a routine now and breaking camp takes no time at all. They hike away from the fleeing rats. Pierce keeps a tally (seventy-seven) as Haze guides them. He hasn't quite come up with the perfect way to let Brennan know he loves the stolen glances, the shy smiles. But he works on it, he's working on it, when all the air in the arena seems to evaporate.

Metal on rock pings to his left. Another knife dances harmlessly off the ruins to his right. His would-be attacker hadn't quite gotten it right but she'd tried. And worse, she'd flung two weapons at him before he'd even gotten to notch his bow. For a split second he lets the indignation take him. All those years of Career training to what, suck? "We're surrounded!" Which is an accurate assessment and something he should have offered his allies.

Then Elm crushes his bone just beneath his kneecap.

Pierce howls in pain -- "god, get me through this" -- and spits out, "or we could just get each other through it!"

His teeth begin to chatter. He clamps down, arms shaking with the excess adrenaline as he finally pulls the bow taut. He's taking too long to decide who to hit, and worse, he knows it. He knows every milisecond matters, especially when facing well coordinated opponents like these. But he doesn't really recognize any of them thusfar and he'd really like to know who had thrown knives at his skull?

In the same breath he recognizes Svet from the Training Center, she silences Ama forever.

It's like trying to wade through sludge. His brain, which had not been particularly nimble that morning, slows to a crawl. There is something he's supposed to do when an ally falls, something he's supposed to say. But his brain can only focus on Svet's face, the barest flicker of fear when Haze ignited her blades.

Pierce pivots on his bad leg, groaning with the effort. But it puts him just a half step ahead of Brennan. "Feel like checking out my ass for a change?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrow, willing the flirtation to dull the pain.

It's not a perfect line but in the arena, it will have to do.

This time when he pulls the Longbow back he feels the tension and lets it ignite. "Might wanna duck, Svet," he says, and whatever warmth had been in his blue eyes for Brennan has fled. "Or I might remember how to reap some rewards."

e l m  -  e r r i n g t o n

The boy’s leg crushes under my weapon. I don’t know his name – god, why didn’t I learn anyone’s names? – but I do know that I’ve hurt him, and I have to be okay with that. I have to keep moving. If I don’t – god, they’re killing Svet and Dorothy. They’re–

And then Svet pushes her blade through someone’s skull.

My world tilts on its axis. Even injured, Svet is still fighting. Not only fighting, but lashing at them with her words.

I don’t dare. I don’t dare say anything. I channel my inner mouse, slinking momentarily into the corner to gather my bearings. I’m in this, but… someone’s dead.

My heart pounds in my chest. My lungs gasp for air. My vision blurs. I feel the panic taking over.

How do the others have this all together? How do they keep moving? How are they speaking?

I’m just a mess in the corner. I thought I could be brave and step forward and fight, but now the repercussions of this bloodbath are laid bare in the dirt, and I can’t move my body.

I give myself five seconds of panic. Five seconds to be a mouse in the corner.

One.

The tribute is bleeding into the dirt.

Two.

Dorothy’s neck is sliced open with a flying arrow.

Three.

I think my heart is going to stop, it’s pounding so fast.

Four.

Dorothy, even hurt, springs forward with unchecked wrath.

Five.

I’m not sure what pushes me to move. It’s not because I’m ready to, definitely not, but my time is up for waiting. I can’t hide from this.

This is real. I am real.

And there’s a weapon clenched in my fist.

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

As soon as my knife grazes Dorothy's side, Pierce's elbow pushes at my chest and aside. "Feel like checking my ass out for a change?" I'd laugh at his joke and/or die of embarrassment from it if we weren't caught in a life-or-death scenario. His arrow pierces her again, but it doesn't seem to be enough to deter them or push them back. In fact, she almost seems unphased. Dorothy takes the words I used to make myself big, twisted them, and now she's made me small. She and Elm, one of the tributes from District Twelve, take Pierce up as their target again.

There is a brief moment where I feel like making a grab for his hand to pull on it and run away. He's hurting, although his humor does its best to make it. When the boltmares threw me against hard concrete yesterday afternoon, I barely functioned, yet he stood at the front manning traps and protecting our base despite being injured just the same. Perhaps he's too bold for his own good. That's been a constant critique of career districts and their tributes: they can take on more than they can handle. By the first scent of hesitation, it can already be too late.

I don't want you to die, Pierce. I have the sword, you have the bow. I should be the one defending you, here. I turn away to guard our backsides. There's more fighting in the background where Haze is taking on a couple of others. Svetlana and Theo.

And Ama? Where is she?

It takes a brief scan to the corner of the ruins to find her. She's leaned up against one of the walls, a huge wound ripped across her chest. Ama isn't moving. "Ama!" I shout as if it'll help us any. I shouldn't have left Haze and Ama back there alone, not until we'd found out how many tributes we were going to face. Guilt knocks me back-to-back with Pierce. Fuck, why did I leave them alone? I know they can handle themselves, but an extra body can't hurt. Maybe if I hadn't moved, it would've been me. If I went for Svetlana instead of speaking with a chip on my shoulder, it could've been me. Dark thoughts from last night resurface: it should've been me.

I was in a good place thirty seconds ago, content with whatever came our way. Now, I'm haunted and unable to look away.

She might still get up and fight on, it's not over until a cannon blows.

I don't have to say it. Both you and I can assume what happens next.

Haze tries to call them off, they've already taken one of us, but Svet and Theo move toward Pierce and me. They want more.

Theo takes the first swing and I don't try to move. Pierce isn't expecting it when he's face-to-face with Dorothy and Elm. I do my best to block the yari with my katana, but the thinness of my blade isn't enough to defend my face from taking a high blow. Better me than Pierce, though, whose body is warm from adrenaline and pressure mounting up from being down four to three.

Svetlana takes her time moving up, taunting Haze with a chilling tongue. But she's still coming up to me, and to Pierce, blade deep with Ama's blood in hand. I stay firm again as she raises her blade, my own ready to try to block the shot. "You had your chance." She aims low, and my leg extends to ensure that it's me who takes the brunt of the damage, and not Pierce.

I try to hide the pain from Pierce, but my body shakes from both blows. I lean my head against his backside to let him know not to worry. He has to worry about his survival, and I'll worry about mine. Brennan's gotta worry about Brennan, right?

"One thing about life is that it gives bad people too many chances." My katana shifts to the offensive and I swing at Svetlana. I'm not above returning violence with violence. We're past that. "But... here's to those second chances."

[ brennan attacks svetlana ; katana ]
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[3.5]