dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo

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nolan goode 10m / kaitlin.
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aspiring beam of light

dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 12, 2023 0:08:40 GMT -5

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Post by nolan goode 10m / kaitlin. on Apr 12, 2023 0:08:40 GMT -5

Whirling winds part the night and bear down dawn upon you where you stand atop the sky. With them they carry familiar electric energy, charging the air atop the mountain with potential, surging through your veins and making everything feel brighter, sharper. You both watch as the arena crumbles around you, a thousand feet below the boulder floating in the clouds. It starts with the ruins, shattering to dust, crumbling away from the mountainside beyond view, ruined beyond repair. From there the stream dries up, stops feeding the roots of the cherry trees and the petals all fall from their branches, dusting across the ground. Wind picks them up, sending them dancing through sky, making strange patterns as they swirl around you both, meeting the sunrise. Red and orange threads through the sky all around, leeching light from the sun and drowning out the bioluminescent fauna that had lit your way through the trees last night. You inhale, electric, exhale, and ready for your final fight.

Welcome to the finale, friends! This is the moment you've both been waiting for. You may have as long as you need within reason to wrap things up, but please be considerate of your fellow tributes and mindful of the site's schedule. Best of luck to you both! x

TRIBUTE INFORMATION.

Nikolas Ivanov, District Five - 6
Self Defense

Theodore Horner, District Eight - 0
Self Defense
Strength

Last Edit: Apr 12, 2023 20:57:42 GMT -5 by nolan goode 10m / kaitlin.

what are men to rocks and mountains?

a haunted house.

arctic
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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 12, 2023 7:55:33 GMT -5

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Post by arctic on Apr 12, 2023 7:55:33 GMT -5

I felt like a child again. Like the boy who would take the time of day to go down to a creek, or river. Gettin’ my pants all fucked up with mud and tears as I hunted down frogs to catch. Stare at them, hold life in my hands, feel the power my hands have with that life-holding ability. While trying to dive down and snatch a bird, I felt that muddy, innocent bubble that lifted me through my day. Kirb would be there most of the time. They’d be lookin’ at bugs more than frogs. Pickin’ up little red wings with black spots or crawlers with nearly too many legs. Little guys that, when touched, curl up into a ball and hide from the world. I used to be jealous of those little bugs. I wished I could just… hide. Not have to hear the shouts, the glass shatters, the things in my parents’ relationship that I blocked out through creek trips and chipped teeth.

I liked to fight people and use that energy that had spent so many hours healing on a couch with a clipboard. Match the energy my parents used to use. But they’ve grown out of that anger they used to holler. As one more body lay between me and my home, I can’t say I’ve evolved like them. Eventually, I grew tired of chasing feathers. I just wanted to message the boy who survived the latest cannon. When all else fails, I can send the guy a message myself, which sounds much more exciting.

Leaving the temple, my body feels much stronger than ever imagined following the bloodbath. Most, even including me, assumed that I would be the first body boxed up and sent home. But here I am. The last fuckin’ two. I do have one thing to say. My eyes find a camera, if any spaces leave an obvious room for one. ”Eat my dick, Aytac. You’re gonna be seein me again. Alive.” I flip ‘em my own bird after that.

Following the path higher and higher, I begin to realize how little of a chance of openly finding this dude is. It’s almost tiring, soon enough, but I’m not about to quit. The arena is massive though. When the two bodies are finally sighted, it’s like a small flicker of selfishness arises and builds in my chest. Two bodies are hunched over. One is Brennan. Not breathing. The other is (I think) Niko, a dude who I personally never spoke to. He’s… hardly breathing, it seems. I fight every instinct that lay within my bones to just kill the dude off now. I’m better off doin’ such. End his suffering, end this game all within one swipe. What’s the fuckin’ fun in that? I want a show.

I cough, alerting the guy of my presence, and hoping the decision to not throw my spear at the dude is respected enough. ”Sup, man?” My eyes meet a brunette boy with piercing eyes. Hunched over, clutching his stomach as if he were trying to keep his entire body from falling out of it.

”You look rough.” As if he needed to hear the confirmation himself. Dude’s a complete damn mess, which every wince and flicker of pain in Niko’s eyes makes me just want to walk away. It takes a while to respond and I just enjoy the air, the feeling of breeze on my skin, reminding me more and more that I am human and alive. The occasional bursts of wind keep us from complete silence. Through the wind, he whispers that he’s feeling top notch. If the state of his lying body didn’t say otherwise, I’d believe him. Because I sure fuckin do. I could do this shit again if you gave me another day to reload.

A sponsor gift is sent down for Niko. Hopefully it’s some fucking medicine for the dude, but nope, a box of playing cards.

You’re joking.

Niko then asks if I want to play, holding the cards up. Whoever sponsored it must want us to. Which is a cruel ass joke to be playing on my ass. ”Uh,” there’s a whimper of hesitance in my voice, knowing what happened the last time I played. But this might be my last game. Might as well play for the world, you know? ”Sure.” My voice has a slide to it, a wobbly uncertainty like a child learning to walk for the first time.

Niko suggests a game named War. Probably the easiest thing we can do, and it’s a game that most children can play. Like us. We’re just two kids for the world to watch die from now on. If we’re not a cannon, we will be newspapers, television headlines, magazines, and processions. But we’re just kids, which makes the headlines of Patricia Valfierno fucked. Everyone is destined to die at some point. I am, Niko is, Aytac is - not soon enough - and the ones that live through this arena just become a spectacle for the Capitol to continue following until we do. The entire damn country turns into an arena of people mad that we killed their loved ones or mad that we earned a fortune and they did not. Nobody is happy for the child who lives. You might as well die so they’re happy for someone else.

As Niko deals the cards, his blood drips and smudges on some pieces. Someone should sell that if the Victor money burns out. Most Capitolites would fight in their own damn games for unique trinkets from the arena. Do the clothes sell well too? I’ll keep note, as the blood encrusted pants and hole-bearing shirt that cover my body as loosely as Ayac’s lips cover his mouth are not worth keeping.

The irony of this card game never leaves me. A pit in my stomach says that if that first card game didn’t kill me a week ago, this one will. We keep a flow of the one, two, three, war and don’t break it. Most of the time I’d be shootin the shit. Telling him that he sucks or that I fucked his dad every time we get a lead on. "You don't seem like a shitty dude, why'd you volunteer for this?"

Well, funny story, actually.

”Uh, this.” I hold up a card as I’m placin’ it down. ”Not the card specifically, but, a card game. Which makes this almost full circle.” The natural full circle is if I live because the last poker game sent me to die. He responds, but I’m too zoned in to the card game. If I can’t win the Games, I at least want to win something going out.

Not that this game gives me the choice to, but the thought is nice to a boy literally facing life or death. Our flow is interrupted by me winning the first round. Niko curses lightly, and then talks more. Dude doesn’t want to die silent, it seems. "Shit. By the way, I've been wondering, what happened to Dory?”

Dorothy. I miss her.

The reminder of punching her father’s fuckin teeth out rekindles the fire that lies within my body.

”Haizea killed her a few days ago. In the temple,” I let out a huff, but that fire flickers with pride. ”I just killed her, though, so that sounds pretty full circle to me.”

Bitch, I think to myself, gloating in the fact that I don’t have Brennan to tell me that she’s one of the nicest people he ever met. She could be, but I shut that bitch up just like Mirage. We work on redealing the cards as I collect my thoughts on the alliance members that left. ”Did you get to see Elm before they died?” There’s no part of me that feels a connection to them. But it’s nice to know how the people I worked with so closely for the last week met their end.

Niko continues, searching for answers to things that he says he wants to know, but I’m not sure I can answer. ”I've been kind of wandering around alone most of the time. And you have any idea what happened to Mirage or Itzal by any chance? I'd like some closure before I--you know."

Speaking of Mirage, the girl seems important to him. Must be if he’s askin about her. But I fear that this card game would end sooner than expected if he knows I killed her. ”Uh, yeah.” It takes power within to conceal a heat flash appearing on my face. ”Haze, uh, killed her too. We were thrown into this three-way fight on day seven.” The image of my spear in her eye is piercing, quite literally, and I have to shake my head to remove the thought. My lie is swept under the rug as we keep playin’, but the dude’s gonna know the truth if he lives. He’s better off knowing that I did both his and my friend justice than I did him harm. ”Once she - Mirage - died we kind of both dipped out. But it might have been quicker to kill Haze right then.” I don’t know nothin’ about Itzal though, so I ignore that part, giving the question to the winds to answer.

The silence around us makes the world watch. As if this game decided the result of our lives. If that’s true, we might as well wrap up shop now. I wonder what my mom’s thinkin. Or what Woods is hoping I’d do. He probably thinks I look fuckin’ stupid right now. Playing a card game when I could just stab this dude in the chest and get this over with. Get home so we can beat up some bitch together. Outside of those two I have nobody else rootin for me. My heart rumbles lightly, like a earthquake, at the thought of Niko having more people to fight for than me. I have a district to fight for, a home, which gives a whole lot more people to raise my spear for. But it’s hard to call that place home when you hardly eat in it.

The next round ends with Niko winning ”Fucker.” I mumble, throwing my hands up in the air. ”This is all so weird. I feel like the world’s just watchin’ us. You know?” It’s his time to shuffle as the winner, so I take the moment to decompress. ”I hope the Gamemakers ain’t mad at us for not fighting. That sounds like a recipe for us to both get killed.” Which sounds much worse than only one of us. If we all die for nothing, then what’s this all for?

His blood-encrusted cards pile up higher and higher, and eventually we tie. With both hands drawn, and ones across the board, now felt like a better time than ever to get a move on with the show. There’s a silence between us that speaks louder than I ever have in my life. We know what’s coming next. The Gamemakers take this as a chance to blare their hymnals of loyalty, which is quickly ended due to the smaller list of deaths that day. ”Well-” I begin to speak, but then the world just shuts off.

Did he just kill me? That fucker have a knife or some shit? I swear to god, if I wasted time playing a card game to get knocked out like that, I will die pissed at the grave. Purple sparks, electric and static in the way they flash in the sky. That static energy washes over me like a wave, how the tides rush up and pull you backwards into the deep ocean. I’m moved, my legs just move and I don’t even know who’s moving them, because my mind is in a completely separate space. I walk, and I walk. I walk until my legs buckle, my body slumping over yet not slamming the ground, and my consciousness meets darkness.

The sun isn’t even in the sky the next time I see light. It’s like it lives in the sky, silent, yet the hums of orange and pink that canvas the sky fills the void of the yellow ball.

Red sky in the morning.

I collect myself, standing up on my feet and holding my spear. We, Niko and I, now stand on a floating rock. There is no escaping this rock though. A glance over the edge tells us that the arena we grew to take for granted is now rubble. Pink cherry blossoms have turned into naked branches, ruins have turned into rubble, and stream has turned into the void.

Red sky in the morning.

Staring at the world that’s turned into waste around me, this is the end. I’ve always known that this was the end. From the moment we started playing cards, this was the end. In the distance of the pink skies shows remnants of purple lightning. It crackles, and the thunder rumbles in my ear, as if the Gamemakers themselves are angry for such a distraction to the end.

Red sky in the morning.

They want us to fight, yeah,

red sky in the morning.

My eyes find Niko, and I stare for a second. This is not a gamble anymore. This is a war, and not the kids’ one we just played. ”Good luck, man.” We both needed luck to gamble.

I need strength to win.

Red sky in the morning.

I hold my spear, and as I prepare to swing, all I can hope for is the color red.

[attacks niko, spear]
k97qM4lgwospear
[miss]

accuracy
spear
[sc 3.5]

[kaitlin]

spear·spear

Last Edit: Apr 12, 2023 7:57:37 GMT -5 by arctic

pup
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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 12, 2023 9:58:05 GMT -5

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Post by pup on Apr 12, 2023 9:58:05 GMT -5

Brennan's body was starting to stink. He knew that he needed to leave so that the boy's body could be taken by the gamemakers, but the most he could manage was a slow crawl upwind before his vision began to blur.

There's silence. Or almost silence. The demonic creatures that had chosen to nest in Niko's ears whispered angry chants, urging him to kill. Theo--according to Brennan--or Haizea was out there somewhere walking on the ground which would soon house their body. That is if the voices had anything to say about it at least.

While he sits, he can feel the blood beginning to work its way through his system again. The hole in his stomach begins to dry under his shoddy sutures. The sun starts to stab at his aching brain, so he closes his eyes. The wind laps at his body a lot softer than it had during his fight a few hours ago, and he tries to relax. The demons won't let him though.

They screech about getting home to Kat and about how good it felt to hear Brennan's body hit the ground and about reveling in Mirage's death. They shouted about Elm's screams and about partying back in district five and about how maybe Karl's heart in a jar wasn't such a bad idea after all. They trumpeted about Death itself visiting Niko and about the gift of the scythe and about Ivy's death being for the best if it meant he got to live.

He tried to quiet them. He tried to remind himself that this isn't who he is and that their nickname for him is pretentious. He tried to reason and argue, but it wasn't enough.

They screamed and screamed and the cacophony grew louder and more raucous. His head began to hurt more and more and his thoughts felt more and more scrambled as they dubbed him The Grim Reaper again and again and again and-

"Sup, man?"

He looks up. The silhouette against the light must be Death again.

"You look rough."

Definitely not Death. It's not Haizea either--Brennan was right. The voice is familiar. He had heard it before from across the training center dining hall. They had never actually spoken though.

The silence, even the demons were too stunned to scream. Luckily, Niko managed to get ahold of his voice before they did.

"Nah dude, I'm feelin' top notch."

There's silence again, but this time the voices fill the void. They scream at him to grab the weapon and skewer Theo. It would be easy. He was barely armed to the teeth and only had all of his limbs.

He's about to reach for his scythe when a soft ding interrupts him. A sponsorship, now? Even the voices quiet to peer inside the small container when Niko cracks it open.

If Theo's determined to not kill him quite yet, and if the voices remain silenced from their shock, there's not much else to do. "You game?" he asks, his voice quiet. Theo uncertainly sits down, and Niko shuffles the cards absentmindedly. It was as if he was back home, shuffling a battered deck of cards on his work break with Benji.

They decide on War. It's simple, it's boring, and it's perfect. The game could go on forever. Forever would be perfect. Stalling death, stopping the demons from taking control of his limbs as they had with Brennan, and staving off his exhaustion. Forever used to be something that sent shivers down his spine. Now, in an arena filled with fleeting moments of friendship and anger, he longs for longevity.

After playing a bit, Niko interrupts the games soothing flow--One, two, three, war!--with a question. He'd asked Dory that night on the training center roof, he'd asked Itzal on the train, and now he's asking Theo on a mountain underneath an orange sky. They were always slightly different with the same undertones. They were running to or away from something.

A card game is unexpected. Niko arches an eyebrow quizzically, but Theo doesn't elaborate. He doesn't seem like the type of guy who would jump into a death match because he wants a new deck of cards.

They keep playing. When Theo wins a round and the voices scream to slice him open, Niko quiets them by talking. "Shit. By the way, I've been wondering, what happened to Dory?"

Hope died what, four or five days ago? He hadn't found an answer to it, but he had been wondering. Theo would probably know, they seemed close.

Haizea happened, of course. Niko had never met the girl, but it seems everyone was so enamored by her ability to murder. Brennan seemed nearly obsessive from the way he talked about her. Theo had killed her too, which piled onto his doubts about his ability to survive.

"Did you get to see Elm before they died?"

It's a momentary flinch at their name. Their screams racket back into his mind along with the cackling monstrosities rewriting his thoughts.

"Uh, not really. I think Mirage killed them."

and I cut off their foot so Mirage could do it didn't quite have a nice ring to it. Theo probably wouldn't take that too kindly. It didn't matter though. Niko would either survive with the lie or die and not have to face Theo when he learned the truth. How many victors actually watch their games after they win? Would Theo want to relive all of this?

Theo wins another round, and Niko continues, asking about Mirage and Itzal. "I'd like some closure before I--you know-" his voice quiets before he could say the word die or the demons force out kill you into the calm air. Mirage would have been a complete menace to society if she had survived. Out of all of the deaths in the arena, her's brought him the most comfort.

Haizea, again. That seemed to be the common theme. He wanted to strangle her from beyond the grave for probably taking all the sponsors and thank her for her duty at the same time.

Niko's blood drips onto the crisp cards. Feeling the slick surface, he almost laughs. His grin must look insane at the moment. He'd never be able to afford a new deck of cards like this back home and now look at him ruining a perfectly good set. This is why he can't have anything nice.

He wins a round, and the voices congratulate him, noting that this would be a perfect time to stab Theo.

"Fucker."

And Theo talks as Niko shuffles. Niko had tried not to think about the audience. Was Kat sitting at home, watching him play when he had the opportunity to win now and come back to district five? He could see her face now as he brought home a new pack of pencils and a drawing pad straight from the Capitol. She'd light up in joy and hug him and his dad would welcome him back and everything would be back to normal.

They play, they tie.

The two faces stare down at them before disappearing. The anthem plays, and their moment in forever ends. They are not friends. Theo is not Benji. The blood-stained ground is not the table next to the oil fields. They are two murderers sitting side by side and basking in the light of their victims.

"Well-"

Shit. Panic floods through him and the voices scream at his stupidity. Why couldn't he have just killed Theo when he had the chance.

He half expects a voice to cry out, "The keepers are coming" and for him to stumble out of a rave, high out of his mind. It would be solace. He'd make his way back home and ride out for the rest of the trip. This could all just be a bad trip.

But no, he doesn't wake up on the ground outside of a warehouse with the light of the keepers' vehicles in the distance. There's just darkness and silence and the voices keeping him company with their thirst for Theo's death.

When the darkness clears and he wakes from what must have been a forced slumber, he feels better rested. His wounds from the day before had numbed to a dull ache.

Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning.

The voice drowns out all the others that were beginning to restart their incessant clattering. The demons seem surprised to have something else forced into Niko's brain. They were so used to being alone with his thoughts.

The sun had painted a brilliant pattern across the sky. The wind wails and the thunder begins to crack as petals from the barren trees below billow across the floating island. Niko forces himself up with a groan, balancing on his one remaining foot as he sees Theo staring around in wonder. The gamemakers truly have gone all out after their game. It must have been enough time for them to prepare the finale. Niko and Theo must have done them a favor to warrant such a grand ending.

Niko grips the scythe and the voices raise again, overwhelming the planted thought. Sailor's warning was replaced with cheers for the Grim Reaper from District Five.

"Good luck, man." Whatever kindling of friendship they might have had from the previous night was blown away in the gamemaker-constructed torrent.

"I don't need luck," he says, dodging Theo's first strike before the second gashes open an old wound. "Killing me is going to be a lot harder than a game of cards."

niko attacks theo with scythe (glaive)
0tbKgXguiYglaive
[Shallow Cut on Back of Head -- 4.5 damage]

bean

glaive

Last Edit: Apr 12, 2023 9:58:26 GMT -5 by pup

^Made by the amazing Onyx^

arctic
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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 12, 2023 10:44:37 GMT -5

Quote

Post by arctic on Apr 12, 2023 10:44:37 GMT -5

"I don't need luck," he says, dodging my weapon. We know that luck isn’t needed here. Life isn’t a game of chance. This wasn’t a game of chance. We are here from pure strength, a quality that the others here seemed to lack. "Killing me is going to be a lot harder than a game of cards." My spear takes a second swipe to land on his skin, revealing a valley I can only hope doesn’t stop. The thunder, as it crackles, lets out a low rumble. It held a vibration in the boroughs of its claps. Like a cat purring out of satisfaction to be pet, or cuddled, or held. I can’t imagine this arena is close to owning a cat, though. Cats don’t purr for the wounded. Not any cat I’ve met, at least.

Cats fuckin’ suck anyway, dude. Cats may not purr for the wounded, but a buddy of mine back home had a cat. That motherfucker could cut off a limb if it wanted to. The dude would come into the Teacher Kid Table during lunch with scratches all over his arms and legs and - damn, if he were any older, I’d think he’s into some crazy shit. Or that I should have sent a pack of peacekeepers to their house to inspect the family arrangement. But if I did that I’d just look stupid. I can report that family but not my own? Grow up and focus on your own family, T. They usually called me T at the table. Theo, too, but the only bitch that used my full name was my grandmother. Mariah don’t need a name to ground me - the daggers of eyes that she owns do the yelling for her.

I’m brought back from childhood memories by Niko’s weapon getting the back of my head. How the hell did he get behind me? I think to myself, whipping around and internally flaming due to letting him swing around me so fast.

”If you’re anything like Haizea, I would’ve stabbed your eye out by now.”

Or Mirage, but he doesn’t need to know that yet. Niko’s lucky that he’s got pretty eyes.

The arena has completely crumbled by now. Creating a big old canyon of decayed life. It’s sad. During fights, there used to be petals dancing in the background. They give a soft reminder of how graceful life can be. How beautiful this arena once was compared to how ugly the occasion is. Once you’ve killed whatever the fuck comes at you for the day, you can turn your eyes to the blossoms, or the stream, or whatever and just bask in the beauty of what the Capitol created. But now that it’s just Niko and I, there’s no landing from this rock. Our last memories of this place will remain on a floating pebble. They don’t need the rest of this arena, as the orange, blood-red sky illuminates our faces. It makes us look more like a villain than a fighter. And we all know that I’m no villain, right?

This place is an empty reminder of how sane and pure our lives once were. Shriveled-up cherry blossoms and dried-up rivers are all we’ll be now. We aren’t a beautiful source of nature - we’re a fucking ugly ass product of hell. I’m not saying this as a revolation or anything. It’s just the truth. The capitol has turned us into their doll to play with. We play dress up and fulfill the stories they write into our weapons. But that makes this a fantasy.

”I figure it’s nicer to draw out the last of our lives anyway.” I swivel around to face the boy from five. ”Give ‘em a show, and all,” or whatever the fuck that dick Dyno would say. I would like to meet some of the sick fucks that enjoy this show. Bags of popcorn and slices of pizza - whatever greasy shit they can feast on while we fucking die. The joints of my legs groan at the thought of living. They’re so fuckin tired of fighting. I’m so goddamn tired of fighting.

But I’m not a fuckin quitter, and my spear moves to prove it.

[attacks niko, spear]
wFevNZy8wMspear
[stabbed in eye (40) - 10.0]

[kaitlin]

spear

Last Edit: Apr 12, 2023 10:46:08 GMT -5 by arctic

pup
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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 12, 2023 17:39:33 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pup on Apr 12, 2023 17:39:33 GMT -5

"If you’re anything like Haizea, I would’ve stabbed your eye out by now.”

Well that's it, isn't it. Niko isn't like Haizea. He hasn't killed as many people or had as many people fall in platonic infatuation with him. There was no Brennan fighting for to the death just to be able to mourn him. There was no one alive who would tell the tale of him vanquishing a monster such as Mirage like Theo had told him about.

As their weapons clash, a strong gust blows a billowing curtain of cherry blossoms around them. Their soft hues shaded against the harsh orange sky could have been right out of Kat's drawings. The pink crayon in the first box Niko had bought her when she was four years old had quickly turned to a knob after sketches of everything in pink whittled the point down to nothingness. He hadn't been annoyed that it had gone so quickly after it had eaten a chunk out of his first pay check, but he had felt a twinge of tiredness scraping pink scribbles off of the walls.

The thought of his sister brings Niko's scythe sliding backwards, slicing Theo in the head in unison with a crackle of lightning. The voices scream with a joyous mania, reveling in Theo's blood mixing with the dried remains of Brennan.

"I figure it’s nicer to draw out the last of our lives anyway. Give ‘em a show, and all.”

They lock eyes, and Niko sees the spear shooting towards him. He's not fast enough though, Theo is different from Brennan and Karl. He's even different from Mirage and Elm. He doesn't seem as battered or as tired or as strung up with emotions. He's prepared to fight, and it isn't personal.

Who said it's deep? I'm just trying to kill someone. That's pretty simple, isn't it?

It's what Mirage had told him on their first encounter. Six days ago, Niko had stood between her and Ivy and Itzal, begging for peace. Now, nearing the end of his life, he knows that Theo will not accept any pleas, and Niko doesn't want him to.

The spear pierces the side of Niko's head, tearing a gash deep into his flesh. The tissue breaks apart and blood streams into his eyes, but he knows it only just missed a killing blow. His vision goes dark in his right eye, and his blue iris is consumed by red.

"Shit," he gasps, refusing to go down screaming or yelling like Elm. Haunting Theo will be a job enough without screeching into his nightmares. He stumbles backwards, regaining his defensive position. The world around him began to shake, just as it had with Brennan. The voices call for more blood. Not Niko's blood, but Theo's. Niko is increasingly willing to oblige.

His blood flows to the ground as a torrent. The metallic smell begins to rise in the air once again as another spike of lightning urges Niko on. The rolling wave of thunder rises to a crescendo in tandem with the scythe. It glints wickedly in the array of light, the mixture of metal and blood casting shadows and flickering visions of color on the ground before him.

"I think they're putting on enough of a show without our help." He pants out, his breath heavy. It's true. The gamemakers weren't going to let them die without fanfare.

"We've given them enough footage to last two lifetimes. The ticket sales to the 93rd movie franchise aren't our responsibility."

niko attacks theo with scythe (glaive)
FRH_TW0AQWglaive
[Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage]

bean

glaive

Last Edit: Apr 12, 2023 17:39:53 GMT -5 by pup

^Made by the amazing Onyx^

arctic
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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 12, 2023 18:43:41 GMT -5

Quote

Post by arctic on Apr 12, 2023 18:43:41 GMT -5

Our eyes connect for a brief moment as my spear bends toward Niko. It tears into the side of his head, barely missing his eye, and that side is quickly painted red as I retract the weapon. My nostrils flare for a second. I huff in approval of the damage I’ve done to the boy. A light smirk follows shortly after as it slithers onto my face.

It must seem inhumane to want to laugh at it. At his pain and the likely torn ability to see. But I don’t have the room to feel sorry here. Maybe if I was genuinely reaped instead of volunteering I’d want to write a different story. Make the world feel bad for my misfortune, but I signed up for this shit myself. When you become a surgeon, you expect to face some operations that can’t save the patient. If you’re stuck making shoes, you might as well expect back problems the rest of your damn life. My uncle is an example of that, the hunched back that makes him four inches shorter.

If you volunteer for the arena, you gotta expect to fight. You literally say you want a part of that trauma. Not to shit on Dorothy, though. Her family is a ton of dicks so I give her an excuse. Me? I’m here off of a game. If anyone expects me to die from a damn game, they’re wrong. It’s nice to test my strength. See what all I’m capable of doing outside of the field. This arena is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, yeah, but it’s not unexpected. Watching Haizea and Mirage fall to the power of my spear gives a nice nod to what the bitches back at home should expect. My mother and Woods are all I gotta fight for once I’m back. If they’ve got a victor, there shouldn’t be a single damn soul as stupid enough to try it.

But people like Aytac exist, so stupid must be evident across the country.

”Shit,” Niko stumbles backward as his new wound nearly blinds him. The pool of blood that escapes his face and drips onto the ground. Scents of metal and earth fill the air through our brewing battle. Dying petals also float through the air, reminding us of what once lived, and what soon will die. Niko holds a scythe. Somethin’ that I’d expect to do more damage if he’s trying to be this satanic image the Games wants to get out of us. He rises it up, the background of rumbling thunder and metal painting his silhouette into one of a grim reaper. He breathes heavily, tryin to maintain his lifelike state before he collapses over from the pain.

"I think they're putting on enough of a show without our help.” But why should they put on the show when we’re the stars? We don’t talk about who the gamemakers were back at home. Most people are concerned about the victors and the slain. Those who lived through the arena and came home to tell it. Our story is much more important than the one they created for us.

Or mine is, at least, I don’t know about Niko.

"We've given them enough footage to last two lifetimes. The ticket sales to the 93rd movie franchise aren't our responsibility." His scythe digs into my leg, opening a wound that begins to bleed just as freely as his face. I grimace lightly at the newfound wound. After my performance the last two days, I began to forget how vulnerable the human body really is. I’m not a god and that temple didn’t exist for me.

He’s right, for the most part. We’re not here to entertain them. We’re here to remind the world of who we are before we die. Getting remembered is our responsibility. We’ve worked and fought so damn hard to get to this point - and to die? We’re stronger than that. To become a distant past of another Games is an absolute fucking failure on either of our parts. ”Sure, man.” I huff once again, this time not as degrading.

”We’re giving them footage. But maybe we should show the people at home - whoever the fuck it is rooting for us - that we want to be home just as badly.” It should be obvious that we do. We’ve made it to this point. But if we go down hardly putting up a fight - what does that say to our drive to live? ”Give them something to remember you by. The Capitol will forget about you in a year or two, but your family? They -” I’m once again brought to Woods and my momma, and a part of this brick wall of a barrier I’ve put up gets a few bricks knocked out. The structure still tries to hold itself. I can’t afford to demolish my walls yet.

My thigh bleeds more, and mixed with the hole in Niko's face, our wounds leave the air smelling like death more than life.

”They’re the ones we want to show off for.”

Fuck the Capitol and all, right?

[attacks niko, spear]
vhwKbKLvMvspear
[4.0 sc]

[kaitlin]

spear

Last Edit: Apr 12, 2023 18:44:18 GMT -5 by arctic

pup
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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 13, 2023 3:15:47 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pup on Apr 13, 2023 3:15:47 GMT -5

The scythe bends and snaps the light in a flash and blood begins to pour from the new wound on Theo's leg. It's the same strategy he had used against Elm and Karl and Brennan which had seemed to work: go for the legs. It's one of the horrid lessons he'd learned from Mirage in their first encounter when she had torn Ivy's foot from her body. It's one he'd learned from her again when his foot had come clean off.

Niko notes Theo's pained expression with grim satisfaction, the voices cackling and demanding more. More blood, more pain, more death.

"We’re giving them footage. But maybe we should show the people at home - whoever the fuck it is rooting for us - that we want to be home just as badly."

Niko eyes the tip of Theo's spear wearily through his one remaining socket. The blood had begun to leak over to that side too, so he raises his arm to quickly wipe away the distraction. His torn shirt which had become dried and died with blood over the past few days is becoming wet again as the two boys exchange blows.

The screams in his head grow louder. They tell him that yes-- he must provide a show. He must slice his blade against Theo's body again and again until he's nothing but a mangled husk of a boy just like Niko did with each tribute for the past two days.

"Give them something to remember you by. The Capitol will forget about you in a year or two, but your family? They -"

Niko hangs on to each word, using them as a distraction from the voices. Theo's voice had been the only way to quell them as they played cards, and now their situation is no different. They were only playing with life. Their conversation is what kept Niko from falling into the dark abyss of his mind as he had with Brennan, and if he's going to die, he doesn't want to die insane. Karl flinging his life to protect a heart helped him realize that at least.

"They’re the ones we want to show off for.”

No they're not. Niko doesn't want to show off for his family. His dad can go to hell and Kat- he hasn't wanted her to watch this at all. He hopes that she's fast asleep or that she's distracting herself somehow. He doesn't want her last sight of him to be a mutilated corpse swinging a weapon for a crowd's amusement. His last moment will not be to scar his sister watching at home just to appease a crowd.

Niko's movements are too slow again. The world bends around him and Theo's arm seems to move faster than he can comprehend. The spear's tip draws more blood pouring from Niko's body and he stumbles. His vision from his one good eye is growing hazier.

"You think my family wants to remember me like this?" Niko spits out, venomous spite accompanying the blood which sprays off his lips. His knuckles are pale and bloodied on the hilt of his weapon as he defends his face with it. "You think I want my sister to see me like-"

He chokes on his words, his one trembling with terrified tears threatening to burst through. With a couple of blinks, he shamefully forces the water back. His other eye socket aches with pain at the movement. Niko hadn't cried in the past nine days, and he refuses to do so on his deathbed.

Swallowing, he grimaces and his lips press into each other. There's a silence broken only by thunder crackling and the voices in Niko's head commanding him to follow Theo's lead. He bits his bottom lip for a moment, dragging him back to reality.

"I don't know what your family's like, man. But I hope after all of this you'll be able to look them in the eyes again."

Niko's family won't want a performance. He's never been a great actor anyways. When the keepers interrogated him before dragging him to the detention center, they didn't even need to question him long for the truth. He hadn't bothered lying. If he couldn't even lie then, what's there for him to perform now. Desperately, he raises the scythe once again. With no more fanfare and no more words to guide his weapon, he brings it down on Theo.

niko attacks theo with scythe (glaive)
qzJOSPA|o3glaive
[Stabbed in Foot -- 8.0 damage]

bean

glaive

Last Edit: Apr 13, 2023 3:16:09 GMT -5 by pup

^Made by the amazing Onyx^

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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 13, 2023 7:43:00 GMT -5

Quote

Post by arctic on Apr 13, 2023 7:43:00 GMT -5

My spear collects the rays of the sun, directing its’ red flare into Niko’s body. Not enough, fuck it, it’s never enough. Leaving only a graze of a reminder of the blade on his skin can’t kill him. But that raises the question of what is enough. I pick away at Niko’s body in total mutilation, even when he is dead. Make his body so goddamn unrecognizable that they can’t even piece it back together. Each limb and joint has been separated to the point that it takes fifty stitches per joint, a thousand per limb, and even more for the entire body to get put back together. But I’m not lookin’ to fucking demolish the dude. I just want to get home.

Niko stumbles as my spear collects his blood once more. He spits, more blood than coherent words after a point. His words are slurred, in a way, as the blood gargles the parts of his mouth he needs to talk. "You think my family wants to remember me like this?" The venom following his words is meant to poison me, and the thought is cute. He thinks his family could look at him the same anyway. You’ve already killed someone, you dumb fuck! What does this fight do different? That nobility you seek for your family is already gone from Brennan’s death. What would change that? "You think I want my sister to see me like-" He chokes on his words as one able eye tries its’ best to focus on my body. He blinks, blinks, blinks.

Maybe he has a point with a sister, but it’s not something his family should throw him away for. If his bitch of a sister can’t afford to watch him kill - why should he go home? My thoughts are poisoned, of course. My own family doesn’t care. Dad’s gone, so whatever nobility shit he could’ve blinded me with means nothing. This is what my momma taught me to do - fight for my spot. I’ve always fought for my position in the world. For the league, at the Teachers Table, the BASE, for this very moment. Bruised knuckles aren’t any different from the streets back home, but the lick of death is. We (or I) never beat someone’s ass to the point of death. It was normally just to teach a lesson - a don’t fuck with me beating. This fight is a lesson to the country, not the streets, that I don’t give up. That I get the job done, motherfucker, and they should respect the heart put into that.

Niko presses his lips together, grimacing, swallowing more of the metallic smell that collects in his mouth. As the thunder continues to crackle, the world begins to feel warmer, and hotter, and sweatier. The temperature surrounding us builds up increasingly as every swipe is thrown at the other. "I don't know what your family's like, man. But I hope after all of this you'll be able to look them in the eyes again."

Somewhere, I laugh again, blinded by the idea of ever seeing my full family once again. My dad ain’t coming home any time soon. If he is, fuck him, dude! I want my dad to be able to see my thoughts at this moment, white flickering in my eyes as the boy's scythe places itself in my foot. I roar at the penetration of the joints in my foot, groaning, a scowl with arrowed eyebrows finding Niko’s face. My father watched me fight for my damn life, and it took me to nearly fuckin’ die for him to come back?

He was always a pussy, anyway. A part of me wants to see how he’d do in this damn arena. Now that is a quell I would want to see. Give the children, the ones with a future to hold, a moment to breathe. They must watch their parents fight and die in exchange for that breath of hope. If my dad got reaped there, god damn, I’d be hosting the watch party for his funeral. Mariah would probably be the bouncer, too, making sure none of his shitty ass family join either. His family doesn’t deserve a spot. Fucking dick.

”If you actually care,” a chuckle follows my voice, doubtful that there’s any heart left in this dude. ”I only got my momma to please.” Woods ain’t family just yet. Sure, I could consider him a part, but he’d need a piece of government paper to complete that part of our lives. I ain’t a wedding dude. Just go to the fuckin’ mayors office and sign off - he can do whatever he want for it.

My momma, Mariah, is the only person who tends my wounds. ”And she’s used to me coming home damaged, so this ain’t any different to home.”

But it is, because she’d finally be proud of me.

For once, at least, my momma would be proud. The league gave her a moment of satisfaction. But satisfactory-level respect is not the same approval of a hug, or a kiss on the forehead. All she said when I got the call was ”Good job, T.” and that’s all I ever got. A good job, or a you did alright, never a I love you or a I’m glad you’re alive. I’ve always wanted to hear it, but to my momma, I was always too stupid or never enough.

My heart flickers at the thought of a motherly, maternal-like approval, but I can’t let my heart crumble at foreign possibilities. It takes my spear to produce that love, which is fucked up, given that it requires someone's death. It makes a kid like me doubt if her distantly familiar love is worth killing for, but I'm in too deep now to back out of it.

[attacks niko, spear]
UFXikIsf7Kspear
[stabbed in bicep - 8.5 + 1.0 strength]

[kaitlin]

spear

Last Edit: Apr 13, 2023 10:23:06 GMT -5 by arctic

pup
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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 13, 2023 9:15:22 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pup on Apr 13, 2023 9:15:22 GMT -5

The laugh surfs through the air with a wave of thunder. Is this funny? Despite his blood loss, he could feel his veins boil at Theo's attempt to find humor in his words. Niko found it was hard for him to crack a smile when thinking about getting back to his eleven-year-old sister. She had already lost a mother. Losing a brother might be too much for her to handle.

Aiming for Theo's once again, Niko swings the blade downward. Maybe he'll stop laughing if he matches Niko and loses a foot. Digging the curved blade deep into his ankle, Niko pulls backwards. Unfortunately, the foot doesn't come flying off. Hopefully the strike will at least leave a nasty scar.

The voices revel in Theo's pain, but they're starting to become more distant. Niko's face is becoming increasingly pale under the red smeared across his features. With each heavy breath, he feels his limbs becoming slicker with blood. It's how he felt in his fight against Brennan. The comforting severity of death hovering over him, pulling the energy from him like a rig back in district five drawing oil from the earth.

"If you actually care I only got my momma to please." Why is he still laughing? Elm's screams return and Mirage's gleeful expression replays on repeat. Had Niko misjudged Theo? Was he just as much of a monster as Mirage?

"And she’s used to me coming home damaged, so this ain’t any different to home."

Niko could at least understand that. His father's judging, pained face each night Niko stumbled back into the house drunk or high or bruised from a brawl had always driven Niko insane. It had driven him farther and farther into his life's miseries until that drove him right into the keeper's hands.

The spear pierces his arm and he nearly drops his blade Behind Theo, a shadow looms in the lightning. Death has returned, swinging a hooked scythe that matches Niko's. Niko blinks again, knowing that death can't possibly be here to take him. It's only come to work with him before, but never to work against him.

Yet, he feels the warmth envelope him anyways. Is this what everyone else felt before they died? The coldness that came with blood loss began to strip itself away from him. Adrenaline begins to slow its torrent. It felt like coming home and peeling off a heavy raincoat after a being caught in a storm. The promise of death wraps him like a blanket and gently steams like a kettle just being set on a stove. No more frigid rain, no more sopping clothes, no more tripping in mischievous puddles.

Death floats closer. It's ethereal. It keeps moving until it stands in front of Niko, but his eyes don't widen in horror. It reaches a hand out to him, asking him to go willingly. Death is nicer than the keepers that grabbed him roughly and carted him off to detention without a second notice. At least Death is providing forewarning.

Niko won't go peacefully, though. He won't go half-blind into uncertainty and leave Kat alone in the world without a fight.

Niko's quiet, morose, his one eye staring at Theo.

"This isn't funny, Theo."

His voice is soft and distance. Death doesn't seem to take kindly to being ignored and has begun to clamp its arms around Niko's shoulders in an all too similar way to that peacekeeper. Death is no longer warming. As it begins to pull Niko away, dragging him unwillingly by his vocal cords, Niko lashes out.

"I'd choose going home damaged over going home in a casket any day. I hope your mom can understand that when she's planning your funeral."

niko attacks theo with scythe (glaive)
GL0D0hTcW4glaive
[Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage]

bean

glaive

Last Edit: Apr 13, 2023 9:15:46 GMT -5 by pup

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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 13, 2023 10:01:05 GMT -5

Quote

Post by arctic on Apr 13, 2023 10:01:05 GMT -5

My laughing rattles deep within my body. It travels through my body, echoing from the nearly burst stitches of my mind to my legs, my feet and my toes. It’s rejuvenating. It’s powerful, almost, that I find pleasure here. It’s powerful that I feel a sense of belonging in this fight, in this arena, tearing scars into Niko’s body until he just fucking dies. Because I’ve never belonged.

I’ve searched for belonging for all of my life. It was never something that I entered into myself - I was always brought to places. I was brought to the university by my dad, where I’d go eat in the break room with the other kids. It’s now a place that reminds me of the only person who’s ever abandoned me in my life. I was brought to the BASE. A place where I sat there, talked shit, ate horribly warmed food, and played card games - a place that led to my demise. I was brought into the Exy league team, a field of sweaty, hardass men that was supposed to provide me glory. None of those places were ever mine to claim, but now, I have an arena and a title of victor to belong to.

And that sounds so goddamn good to say.

The wielded spear tears into Niko’s arm, once again leaving space for a pool of blood to follow. It’s nice to feel that after all of those years on the streets. Knowing that back then I only fought to harm - to teach a lesson. That the bruises on my arms and knuckles and knees weren’t worth it at the end of the day. Those fuckers still roamed the streets for days, weeks, months after doing the same exact shit I tried to bruise into otherwise. My pain, and the suffering of others meant nothing on those streets.

But here, I fight to kill. Earn a prize much bigger than the constant sobs to stop. Or the bloody knuckles that I scrubbed into the sink. Ice packs and whatever pills my momma has stored up in the kitchen drawers were the end of my battles back at home. I’m ready for a fight to mean something in my life. For me to mean something. There’s no avoiding the knowledge of what’s to come after all of this, either. The bottles of ibuprofen and the plastic bags filled with melting ice will soon turn into much deeper addictions to replace the trauma lying on the surface of my body. Alcohol, cigarettes, bitches, three different cannisters of prescriptions that are supposed to keep my dreams more of a void than nightmares. It won’t take long for the medicine to lose its power, though, and I’d end up sleeping in a water bed of my enemies’ blood. I will have to belong to the medics of District Eight as they try to keep me from killing myself too soon after this all ends. But to belong somewhere, next to the love of my mother, is all I ever want in my life. I’ve always been ready to fight for it.

Laughing is immoral in the face of someone about to die from my hands. But the Games are immoral, and I’ve quickly become the games that I play in the past week. The Gamemakers should be proud they’ve crafted a victor that represents the hell that they own.

Niko’s become silent, his body and mind must be too tired to speak much. It must be hard to become a loser so quickly. The tattered boy speaks softly, the thunder that rumbles turning into a hum to give the space for what seems to be his last words. "This isn't funny, Theo." Maybe to him, maybe to his sister back home. Maybe it isn’t funny to a lot of people. But belonging to the place that ruins you is funny after searching for that place your entire life. It’s amusing to know that the streets and your mother who hardly loved you, the things that threaded themselves into the deepest parts of my sorrow, are the reasons I want to win this fight. It’s all so funny how the world works, and it’s all so fucked by causing me to laugh, too. I was supposed to be the first bitch dead here, based on my experience day one, and I’m about to be the last bitch alive.

It’s all so funny to watch someone’s world burn for your pleasure, but I guess that’s what the Capitol wants anyway.

"I'd choose going home damaged over going home in a casket any day. I hope your mom can understand that when she's planning your funeral.” I stifle another laugh, because while my momma’s all I fought for, my momma also won’t plan no funeral for me. Her ungrateful ass wouldn’t even say anything about me dying, despite me being the one that kept her alive after my dad left. She was bedridden for weeks and I was the only one who brought her food, gave her water, cleaned her. I already left a damaged home, so returning to a damaged mansion doesn’t sound too bad.

”I’m glad you feel that way, man.” I look around at the world around us, my face burning like a cigarette had been put out on my cheek. It’s all so foreign, the cigarette, the flame that my mouth beckons in with an inhale and the smoke that exhales through my nose. They better have a pack ready for me at home. ”But I don’t think it’s your choice anymore.”

Because it’s mine. Finally, something is about to be mine.

[attacks niko, spear]
4tBex9W8GIspear
[sc 4.0]

[kaitlin]

spear

Last Edit: Apr 13, 2023 10:20:42 GMT -5 by arctic

pup
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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Apr 13, 2023 11:27:19 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pup on Apr 13, 2023 11:27:19 GMT -5

The game of cards was fleeting, and Niko longs to go back to it. The sense of forever that had cradled him as he sat bleeding out just a few hours ago had fled at the sight of Theo's spear. Death's pull was becoming more incessant, more aggressive. With each of Theo's laughs, Death grew stronger.

"I’m glad you feel that way, man, but I don’t think it’s your choice anymore."

It's a calculated blow. It's Theo's final cruel act against Niko. The metal point glints in the light and casts an orange glow into Niko's remaining, blue eye. He blinks in a dizzying world and the cut, the final blow of Theo's torture, slices the sutures Niko had sewn into himself yesterday. Brennan allies with Theo from beyond the grave and the sword he had buried deep in Niko begins to haunt him with a new flow of blood.

The world spins once more, and Niko's legs give out from underneath him. Death stands over him, no longer needing to tug on Niko's soul. It knows that it'll only need to wait a few minutes for him to bleed out. After that, there's nothing more Niko can do to avoid Death.

On the ground, Niko breaths heavily. Blood is everywhere. His hands soak in it and it drips from his lips and it rises in his throat and he chokes on it. Theo stands above him, likely preparing for his victory. Where would Theo put his spear? Would it go through Niko's other eye or through his head or would Theo do what Niko did to Karl and just let him bleed out until his canon sounds?

Niko looks up and straight ahead. He looks through Theo and sees Death, reveling in its treachery, standing behind the boy from eight, cheering him on and preparing to collect another soul.

Sorry Kat, I can't die like this.

Theo's wrong. He does have a choice. He can choose the way he wants to go.

His fingers reach down into the pocket at his side. He's losing feeling in his hands, but the smooth pouch is recognizable. After handling it every day ever since it had appeared next to his head overnight, he knew the bag would be there. The powdered seeds were familiar. He had wondered why the plants trainer had emphasized the specific flower so much before they entered the arena.

“Can’t miss with this!” the note had told him after his embarrassing showing the day before.

No, he won't miss.

The scythe is on the ground, discarded. He won't need it where he's going anymore. Only one thing needs that weapon in the afterlife.

He pushes himself back up to face Theo. He stares at him, one blue eye taking in his killer's face and the orange sky and the purple streaks of light breaking the clouds. If he dies, he'll die on his own terms, and hopefully permanently scar his murderer's lungs in the process. Every time Theo takes a painful breath, Niko wants him to remember that this is what he gets for laughing at suffering.

Yes, the voices scream in unison.

He has a fistful of powder. His hand is shaking, knowing what will happen next.

"Congrats, Theo," he coughs out, blood coating his hand while he shields the powder. "You wanted a show? Something to laugh at. Here you go."

With a deep, rattling breath, Niko brings his fist up to his mouth and breaths out.

[Attacks Theo with wisteria per this RE]
1BsCZJtmB_1-4
[+5]

[+4 to Niko]

The powder explodes in their faces. It's carried on a shallow breath and a howling wind and a current of decaying cherry blossoms. It shimmers lavender and orange and a roll of thunder accompanies it as it attacks their lungs.

Niko knows he shouldn't inhale, but it doesn't matter. The powder lands on his open wounds and make its way into his mouth with each terrible gasp for air. Death is approving, its shrouded hood a dark silhouette against the poison. As it raises its scythe in a manner eerily familiar to how Niko has over the past days, Niko swears he hears the voices of the dead. He hears Elm's screams and Ivy's torment, he hears Brennan's final speech and Karl's words of insanity, and he hears his mother whispering bedtime stories to him, stroking his hair while he drifts to sleep.

The poison rackets his lungs and he chokes. It mixes with blood and settles in his body. He convulses in pain. The lights in his head go off one by one and he knows it's time. Death's weapon swings down reap his soul, just as Niko had to Brennan

The poison is a nice color. Kat would have loved a marker in that shade.

Niko's vision shifts from orange to purple, and then finally, blissfully, it goes dark.

bean

1-4

Last Edit: Apr 13, 2023 11:27:51 GMT -5 by pup

^Made by the amazing Onyx^

arctic
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dream of scattered petals [93rd finale] niko v. theo Sept 29, 2023 14:08:43 GMT -5

Quote

Post by arctic on Sept 29, 2023 14:08:43 GMT -5

”But I don’t think it’s your choice anymore.”

I hoped that was the end. That I’d be able to close the story under my hands, my body. The spear glinted in the sun, fluids from Niko’s body painted it to reflect it’s orange light. In a crumbling world that once represented peace and harmony, my hands were to be used to bring that peace back. So much of my life had been out of my hands, and I spent so many months, years, where I dreamed of having fate within my hands. As a child, the smog of the district had polluted my mind into acceptance. That things just happen to me, and that it was okay, because that’s just how things would be.

I hoped I had the chance to control my life just that once. Blade met sewn skin, splitting it once more to rid the wound Niko had tried to mask. If I knew anything from my life of shadowed scars and gashes, stitches can’t, and won’t, repair a broken boy. That is all I was - am. A broken boy, busted lip, stitched leg, dried up blood on the corners of my lips. No matter how often I got a tooth knocked sideways or turned my eyes blue, no stitches would sew back the life I had lost.

Niko fell to the ground, alive, yet we both knew that though I hadn’t willed his death myself, I stood before him as the reaper of his death. The fate that I never claimed but was given. Like a deck of cards, I was given Niko’s fate beneath my spear. Yet, through the gallons of adrenaline that coursed from head to toe, heart to hand, I couldn’t claim that fate. My breath was heavy, the entirety of my body rising and falling above the weakened boy. Like a balloon, it felt like my body had inflated before him. Found a source of power from the inferior state, absorbed it like a sponge, and held its power above him. He had lost his weapon, I watched as it scattered and scraped the floating rock before sliding off of the edge, plummeting to an emptiness that the arena had begun to crumble toward.

”Give up.” A growl, a command.

There’s a hunger for what’s mine, a fate that I can control myself. ”You’re done.” Animalistic in a sense, the air was empty, paused. Even the occasional fluttering petal seemed to stop as if they watched in awe for the end of seventeen years of struggling to belong. But I knew, the world knew, that this body, this crown this place was mine.

Like a wolf, I had marked my territory.

Unlike a wolf, I marked it with blood.

I fought for ages to find what’s mine. On the field, on the streets, I had always fought for my place. Now that I know what it is - surrounded by blossoms and rivers and scents of vanilla and temples built for people far more heavenly than I, it was only right that I had finalized the conditions of it.

Niko stands, one eye gone, one piercingly blue eye staring at me. Through that eye, I saw the tired, lifeless being. Yet he still fought.

Silly, right?

Behind him, the sky was purple. Something of a royal tone - filter it with the sun’s golden streaks, and it would fit well for a moment of crowning like this. Breathing hurts, but overwhelmed by the adrenaline flooding my senses, I know this pain is worth it. The pain is good, the type of pain my momma always told me would make me stronger.

Niko’s hand is holding - something as he raised it to the sky, freedom, passion, whatever inspired the boy to resort to the powder that followed. "Congrats, Theo," he speaks, and my name evokes blood out of his mouth. Coughed, dripped, spurted; it flowed as he tried to have the last word. To redeem himself in his dying moments. "You wanted a show? Something to laugh at. Here you go."

Niko breath, which rattled like the walls of a crumbling castle, blew a puff of powder into the air. The wind was inspired by Niko’s whisper of redemption. It followed suit, spinning the dust into the air, into my lungs, into his lungs, and polluted our space with a cloud of color. Like the sun’s reflection on his spear, there’s a shimmer of lavender and tangerine within the clouds. Niko’s cannon acted as an echo for the bomb of thunder that erupted from the magical dust. The particles of glass, magic, whatever it be, had dispersed into my foot and shoulder and stomach - fulfilling the wounds that had been cut open, but it all didn’t matter as Niko’s body hit the ground.

Immediately, as if the air around us had released every nerve of pain and sorrow in my body, I was engulfed with a searing, burning feeling. Every single wound that Niko carved into my body, every single shattered particle of dust, it all came to a choral forte. The hum of a crane reaches for me, but my body fell lower and lower to the ground, Niko’s clouded redemption still in the space.

As if it were my father’s once-supportive hands, my body naturally collapsed into the crane’s cold grip, limp. Through the remaining dust clouds of purple and orange, I was lifted out of my fate and into my destiny.

♕

a little late, but i felt it needed closure! no need for additional thanks, but forever grateful for the endless support theo's little family in slay provided <3